


I Will Not Break

by kanekki



Series: Accuse Me Thus [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Panic Attacks, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Set post canon but everything that happened in YOI is canon, Supportive Katsuki Yuuri, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, There will be happy moments too I promise, Yuri has a hard life and needs hugs, skating family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanekki/pseuds/kanekki
Summary: Yuri has been supporting his family with his skating since he was a teenager, but now they are barely making it.How long will he be able to hold it together before everything falls apart?





	1. I am Atlas, Atlas is Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set basically immediately post-canon (this seems to be a theme in all my fics). I have this headcanon that Yurio's family doesn't have a lot of money and it's his skating that's been supporting them. This is kind of an extreme take on that, with Yurio having to be responsible not only for his family's finances, but also for the medical care of his mother and grandfather. This will be a very angst-filled story, but there will be moments of triumph. I've tagged what I can think of, but I will also tag each chapter with specific warnings if there is anything very intense. 
> 
> Yuri is sixteen at the start of this fic, Otabek has just turned eighteen (so they're about a year apart).

_Rent is due on the third. Water, electric, heating, waste removal. Three monthly train passes.  Groceries. That leaves...1,230₽ left over for emergencies and other expenses. That’s not enough to keep the cable and internet...fuck. We also have the unpaid bills from last month. Crap. What do we have left to sell?_

 

Yuri rubbed at his eyes in exhaustion as he went over the bills piled on the kitchen table. It was late, the sun long since set, and both his mother and grandfather were in bed. He had a mug of coffee in front of him, the caffeine enough to keep him going for another few hours.

 

He was used to paying the bills as the only breadwinner in the family, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. They managed to just barely scrape by every month with what Yuri earned from his skating and sponsorships, but with everything they had to pay for, it still wasn’t enough.

 

Yuri sold most of the gifts he would receive from his sponsors and fans. The only real thing of value that he kept was his phone, his lifeline to his friends, the outside world. _Otabek._ He wondered sometimes what his boyfriend would say if he knew about all of this.

 

It had been a long day at the rink and he was sore, aching muscles in his legs and shoulders tensed up from exhaustion and stress. He _hated_ the end of the month. Dreaded these nights, piled with bills, chugging coffee, trying to decide what they had left to sell.

 

His grandfather’s car had been the most recent thing to go. Gas was just too expensive. Train tickets were cheaper, although 5,400₽ a month for the three of them wasn’t exactly pocket change, either. It also added a horrendous amount of time to his commute to the rink, causing him to be late to practice nearly every day. Yakov was furious, of course.

 

_Fuck, I can’t think about skating right now. I’ve got to work to get this done. Okay. I can pawn the tv on my day off. If I do that, I’ll still have the two day grace period to get the bills in. Okay, we’re going to be okay this month. Just barely, but…_

 

“Yurachka?” a soft voice called out to him from the staircase, “It is time you were in bed. You can’t skate your best without sleeping.”

 

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yes, Grandpa. Soon, I just have to finish this.”

 

Nikolai walked over, eyeing the bills spread all over the table. He frowned slightly, a look of unhappiness in his eyes.

 

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” he said to Yuri, “This is too much for you.”

 

“No,” Yuri said quickly, “I can handle it. I’ve been doing it for years.” His grandfather look saddened, but nodded.

 

“Your mother is proud of you, even if she cannot say it,” he said, gently grasping his grandson’s shoulder. Yuri nodded in response, afraid if he answered it would betray his emotions. Nikolai turned to go back upstairs, Yuri turned back to his work.

 

At around one in the morning he had finished all the paperwork for the month. Turning off the light in the kitchen, he headed to his room, setting an alarm for five the next morning. Exhausted, anxious, and sore, he collapsed face-down on his bed, too tired to change into his pajamas.

 

_Skating the new program tomorrow. I can do this._

 

* * *

 

“Yuri! Again!” Yakov barked from the sideline. Yuri stood up, brushing the ice off his pants. It was the third time he had fallen while practicing his jumps that morning and he could tell his coach was at his wit’s end.

 

Victor and Yuuri were using the rink as well and Yuri could see them shooting him worried looks every few minutes. He tried to ignore it, to stay focused. He _had_ to win gold. The money he could give his family with another gold medal might be enough to save them from foreclosing on their home.

 

 _Mama, Grandpa,_ _I can do this. You can count on me._

 

He positioned himself for another jump and this time he nailed the landing, continuing on with the rest of his routine. Letting himself go to the feel of the ice and his skates, he let the tension flow from his body right down to the rink.

 

_I can win gold. I am the ice tiger of Russia._

_I have the eyes of a soldier._

 

Landing a quad salchow, he effortlessly skated into the next portion of his routine, the spins and step sequence. He was so engrossed in his skating that he didn’t hear that someone was calling his name.

“-uri! Yuri!”

 

_Ugh, Victor. Shut up. Don’t distract me._

 

“Yuri, your grandfather is calling your cell!”

 

_Grandpa? It’s probably mama again._

 

He skated over to the edge of the rink where his bag lay on the bench. Picking up his cell phone, he pressed the ‘answer’ button with slight trepidation. His grandfather wasted no time in cutting right to the chase.

 

“Yurachka, your mother has gotten rid of her medication again.”

 

_No. No, we don’t have the money for more._

 

He tried to keep his face neutral, aware of his friends’ close proximity to the call. His grandfather continued. “Do you think you can replace it?”

 

Yuri swallowed. His mother had refused to let herself be checked into a hospital for treatment which meant they had been buying her medication illegally for years. It was expensive, a large portion of their monthly income went to getting her meds. But it was well worth it. When on her meds, his mother was stable. Without them…

 

Yuri tried not to think about it, the memory still painful.

 

“I can try after practice,” he answered, “I will see what I can do.”

 

“I am sorry,” his grandfather said sadly, “I am sorry you are carrying our burdens.”

 

Yuri never knew what to say to that. _Yes, I am sorry too. Sorry that father left us after his last bender, that mama is so sick, that you have a bad back and can’t work…_

 

“It’s fine, grandpa. I will see you after I handle it,” Yuri said quietly, hanging up the phone. He noticed the others looking at him curiously, but he ignored their glances, getting back out to the ice.

 

He skated for another two hours, tuning up his jumps and making sure that he could skate through his new program flawlessly. Keeping his mind only on his skating, managed to push the thoughts of what he would have to do after work aside.

 

When practice was over, Yuri packed his bags up and said his goodbyes, hitting the train stop to head into town. He went over the list of contacts in his head: There was Magda, who sold psychiatric medications under the overpass, Pavel who handled the illegal drugs out of the back of the convenience store down the street from their home, and Vova who dealt all the hard drugs in the train station.

 

Magda would need to be the one he saw tonight. He avoided Pavel and Vova, they were friends of his father’s and were bad news. They had made comments about his looks more than once, offering him money to enter into the sex trade when he turned sixteen.

 

Naturally, he had been avoiding them like the plague.

 

He got out at his train stop, heading down the rusted stairs underneath the overpass. It was dark, cold, and loud, with angry voices and barking dogs ringing in the night. Yuri walked towards the area where he had last seen Magda a few months before. There were lots of people living under the overpass, and he carefully made sure not to step on anyone’s territory as he looked for the elderly woman.

 

Magda had been handing out medications for step prices since Yuri’s grandfather’s childhood. She was nearly eighty and a hard woman, eyes of grey steel and wiry hair. Life had not been kind to her and while she loathed and despised adults, she was kind to Yuri and the other children of the neighborhood, insisting that they called her ‘grandmother.’

 

“Yurachka!” the familiar croaky voice called out to him, “Here for your mother’s sins, eh?”

 

Yuri smiled tightly. “ _Babooshka_ , hello.”

 

She stepped out of the shadows, bent over, a shawl draped over her shoulders. “Yurachka, that mother of yours can’t stop getting rid of my medicine. It is bad for business!”

 

Yuri looked down at the ground, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. “I’m sorry, but I need to buy more. Otherwise…”

 

She waved a hand. “Yes, we all remember last time. Little Yurachka, covered in blood, screaming in the street for help. Poor sweet child.”

 

Yuri looked down to the floor, the images painful to recall.

 

_Don’t think about it, just get the damn medicine._

 

Magda drew out a small bottle from her purse, holding it out to Yuri. “Do you have my payment? You know I adore you, but grandma still needs to eat, yes?”

 

Yuri nodded, swallowing painfully as he reached into his bag.

 

_This is the only thing I have left. I am so fucking sorry._

 

Pulling out his gold medal, he handed it over silently. Magda’s eyes gleamed, but she looked sadly at him.

 

“My dear, are you sure?” she asked, “We all know what this means to you.”

 

Yuri kicked at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact. “It’s all we have left. I’ve sold everything else to pay rent.”

 

She nodded, taking the medal with a sad expression, handing him the small bottle. Yuri hastily pocketed it, turning to leave, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

“My dear, this is worth more than just one bottle. Every time...any time you need something, you come to me, free of charge, yes?” Magda asked, squeezing his shoulder. Yuri nodded, unable to voice his thanks.

 

_Mama, I wish you could take care of yourself._

 

Walking home, he kept a tight grip on the bottle. When their house was in view, he headed up the steps, turning the key in the lock. It was dark inside, stale and musty. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink and his grandfather was slowly handwashing them, turning around to greet Yuri.

 

“Good to see you, Yurachka,” he said warmly, “How was your day?”

 

Yuri dropped his bag to the floor, kicking off his shoes. “Alright. I got the medication.”

 

His grandfather gave a deep sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair. “Good, thank you Yuri. I was...beginning to get worried. She was drinking tonight.” Gesturing to the side, Yuri followed his hands to see a few empty beer bottles on the counter.

 

_Just like dad. Will it never fucking end?_

_I gave away my gold medal for this?_

 

Yuri suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of emotion come over him, eyes bright with tears. The sight of the bottles combined with old memories of his mother burned through his mind. His grandfather put down the plate, coming over and hugging Yuri gently.

 

“What is it, my boy?” Nikolai asked worriedly. Yuri sighed, letting his grandfather hold him, letting someone else be in charge for a change.

 

“I had to give my gold medal away to get Mama’s medicine,” he mumbled, “I know, it’s stupid but I just…”

 

Nikolai shushed him, patting his back gently. “I’m so sorry, Yuri. You are too good to us. I am so proud of you.”

 

Yuri let his grandfather hold him for a few moments longer, before pulling away, giving him a strong smile.

 

_Eyes of a soldier. Eyes of a soldier._

 

He walked and picked up his bag, heading upstairs. The closed door to his mother’s bedroom seemed to mock him. He raised his hand to knock, but thought better of it, heading to his own room instead.

 

The familiar dark room helped relax him more, crashing down on his bed with a sigh. He pulled out his phone, smiling as he saw a text from Otabek, helping him forget some of the troubles on his mind.

 

 **Beka <3: **Yura! How was practice today? I miss you.

 **Yuri:** It was good. Victor and port cutlet are disgusting, as always. Yakov was riding my ass all day. You?

 **Beka <3: **Kazakhstan isn’t the same without you. I’m training but all I can think about is your face :P

 **Yuri:** Stop, you’re making me blush. I miss you, too.  <3<3

 **Beka <3:** Exactly one month until I can kiss you again. That’s going to be way too long. I think I’ll die.

 **Yuri:** You big drama queen. I want to kiss you, too. <3

 **Beka <3: **I have to go, it’s really late. But I know what I’ll be thinking about tonight. ;)

 **Yuri:** Me too. <3<3 Night, Beka.

 **Beka <3:** Night Yura<3

 

Sighing, Yuri flopped back onto the bed, eyes closing.

_Beka, what would you think of me if you knew? I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know how._

 

He drifted off into an uneasy sleep, trying to think only of his boyfriend.

 

_I might have given away my medal, but at least I still have him._

 

* * *

 

The next day at practice, Yuri missed six consecutive jumps in a row.

 

“Yurachka! Come here, now!” Yakov barked, arms crossed angrily over his chest. Yuri skated over, ignoring the concerned looks of the others at the rink. Mila was watching him worriedly. She had told him earlier that he had looked “more angry than usual.”

 

_Hag._

 

“I don’t know what game you think this is,” Yakov said angrily as he reached him, “But your prelims are in less than two months and with that kind of performance, you won’t even make the top ten let alone the podium! Don’t you want another gold?”

 

_Of course I do. We need the money._

_I can’t believe I fucking gave away my medal._

 

Yuri just looked down at the ice, arms crossed with a stormy look on his face as Yakov gave out to him. Victor and Yuuri skated closer, Mila looking more concerned.

 

“Yurachka! Listen to me now! This attitude, this is unacceptable! Do I need to send you home?”

 

_Don’t push me, old man. I’ve had about as much as I can take this week._

 

“Hey now, Yakov, I’m sure Yuri didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Why don’t we take a fifteen minute break?” Victor asked cheerfully, sensing Yuri’s anger boiling. Yakov gave a gruff nod, storming away.

 

Yuri sat down, furiously running shaking hands through his hair. He could sense the tension in the room and suddenly, he just _couldn’t_ stand to sit there one minute longer. Standing up, he stormed back to the ice, deaf to all the comments from his friends.

 

He ran through his program again, this time skating through all his jumps perfectly. His anger burned under his skin, forcing him over the edge, causing him to skate dangerously, pushing his limits. The last jump of his program, a quad sal, he had every confidence he would land.

 

He threw himself into the air, spinning and coming back down.

_Oh no, I’m not in the right position...shit! Fuck!_

 

He landed badly, sprawling out on the ice. Drawing up to his knees, he pounded the ice with his fists.

 

“ _FUCK!_ ” he screamed, the word echoing through the rink. He heard the sounds of skates coming up from behind him, a pair of gentle hands on his shoulders.

 

“Yuri, are you alright?” Yuuri asked him, “That was a bad fall.”

 

_No shit. God, just leave me alone!_

 

Yuri shrugged off his shoulder, getting on his feet and skating to the edge of the rink. He angrily tore off his skates, thrusting them into his bag. He quickly slipped on his shoes and stormed out of the rink, not waiting for anyone’s permission.

 

“What’s up with _him?_ ” he heard Mila ask.

“It’s just Yurio being Yurio,” Victor responded, “He’ll be fine tomorrow.”

 

_Fuck you both._

_I’m not fine._

 

He threw open the front door to the rink, slamming it into the wall, storming down the steps and heading towards the train stop.

  
_I just need one good day. I need a day._

_Please._


	2. Not For Sale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments! I really appreciate it.
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: Mentions of drug use/drugs, mentions of prostitution

The next morning, Yuri woke up feeling sore and angry. He stumbled into the shower, the shock of ice cold water waking him up. He showered as quickly as possible, shivering as he stepped out to dry off.

 

_ Shit, did I forget to pay a bill? Or is the water heater broken again? _

 

He heard a light knock on the bathroom door. “Yurachka? Would you like some breakfast?”

 

“No thanks, Grandpa, I’m running late. I’ll catch something in the station,” Yuri lied, hastily getting dressed. He knew they didn’t have enough food for all of them to eat, so he’d go a few days without three meals. It wasn’t a big deal, he was used to his body running on empty.

 

Walking out of the bathroom past his mother’s closed bedroom door, he fingered the bottle of medication he had picked up the night before. He stared at her door for a moment before shaking his head, heading down to the kitchen. 

 

Rummaging through their cabinets, he found their mortar and poured the contents of the bottle inside. Grinding it up into powder, he delicately placed small increments into small pill bags, enough to be sprinkled into her food. He knew it wasn’t very ethical, but it was either this way or…

 

Well, Yuri didn’t like to think about it.

 

“Grandpa?” he called, “Come here for a moment.”

 

Nikolai walked into the kitchen and Yuri gestured wordlessly to the bags. Nikolai nodded, patting Yuri on the shoulder in a silent show of gratitude.

 

“Have a nice day at the rink,” he told Yuri, eyes saying  _ thank you. _

 

“I will. Be home after dinner,” Yuri answered, nodding curtly.

 

Heading outside into the frigid air was almost a relief. It was still early enough that the neighborhood wasn’t too active, most people sleeping off a drunken night or trying to get their kids ready for school. He lived in what he heard most people refer to as a “bad part of town,” but to Yuri, it was all he had ever known. And at least the neighborhood stuck together.

 

He walked for a few minutes, passing abandoned or burned down homes, places he knew were filled with squatters and drug dealers. Their part of the city had become known in particular for sex trafficking, and everyone had been warned to keep an eye out for any new kids that looked like they were in trouble. The neighborhood was fiercely protective of kids.

 

_ At least we’ve got that going for us. Aw, fuck. Is that...shit, that’s just who I need to see today. _

 

His gut clenched as he noticed a figure leaning on the corner of a closed-up store, smoking a cigarette. He was wearing dull shapeless clothes and had on a grey beanie. When he noticed Yuri coming his way, he broke into a toothy grin.

 

“Well, if it isn’t Yura,” the man preened, eyeing him up and down. Yuri went on the defensive.

 

_ No one calls me that except Beka, you scumbag. _

 

“Pavel,” he spat through gritted teeth, “What do you want?”  

 

_ Scum. Fucking drug dealing, pimping scum. _

 

The man laughed, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Oh, nothing. I heard you turned sixteen recently. Just know my offer is still open. Face like yours? You’d have customers lined up for days. When you run out of things to sell to pay off your mother’s debts, you come see me, alright beautiful?”

 

Yuri was going to  _ throw up. _

 

“You are disgusting,” he spat, swerving around him and heading for the train, “I’m not  _ for sale. _ ”

 

“Hey, don’t turn me down so easy! It’s a golden offer, kid!” Pavel called after him, but Yuri refused to turn around to respond. 

 

_ What a creep. He’s been after me since I turned thirteen. Disgusting. _

 

Shaken up a little, he boarded the train sullenly, trying to focus on his new routine in his head. He had to do better than yesterday. About fifteen minutes into the ride, he felt his phone buzz.

 

**Beka <3** : Yura are you okay? Victor texted me asking if I had heard from you. Says you left practice early?

**Yuri** : Ugh, stupid Victor. He’s being nosy, I’m fine. Just got pissed because I missed a bunch of jumps, had to clear my head.

**Beka <3** : Missing jumps? That’s not like you. Are you sure you’re okay?

**Yuri:** Yeah, it’s fine. I’m heading to practice now, actually. Call later?  <3

**Beka <3:** <3<3Yes

 

Sighing, Yuri put his phone back in his pocket. He couldn’t think of a way to let Otabek in to his personal life. He liked him a lot, maybe even loved him, but he had so much on his plate, so much baggage...he was scared to lay it out on the table.

 

He went through the routine in his head until he couldn’t think of any more things to improve. When the train stopped, he got off, hoping out to head to the rink. He walked, his hour commute almost to an end. This part of the city was nice, clean, and safe. He still felt on the defensive, Pavel’s comments from early still twinging at his gut.

 

He entered the rink, ignoring stares and went to set up in the locker room. After tying up his skates, he stepped out onto the ice, warming up with some simple movements. Ten or fifteen minutes past as he skated alone, happy for the solitude.

 

“Yurachka,” Yakov’s gruff voice called out to him, “We should talk.”

 

Despite still being angry, Yuri felt a little ashamed at how he had behaved yesterday. Skating over, he made up his mind to apologize. He was opening his mouth to say it when Yakov interrupted him.

 

“Your grandfather called me,” he said. Yuri’s mouth snapped shut.

 

_ What? _

 

“He said you hadn’t been sleeping much the last few days due to caring for your mother. She is ill, yes?”

 

Yuri nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was startled when a heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder in a show of support.

 

“Then I am sorry. Do you feel well enough to skate today?”

Yuri nodded. “Yes, yes I want to skate.”

 

“Good,” Yakov said, “Then let us get out to the ice.”

 

Practice went considerably better than the day before, Yuri managing to forget his encounter from the morning. He thought of Otabek instead, dreaming of seeing him,  _ kissing _ him again.

 

“That’s beautiful, Yuri!” a cheerful voice called out. Yuri’s stomach plummeted at the word.

 

_ “When you run out of things to sell to pay off your mother’s debts, you come see me, alright beautiful?” _

 

The words echoed through his mind and he went for another jump, missing it by a mile. He landed badly, over rotating and almost hitting the wall. He looked up furiously to see Victor’s very sorry face as he held out both of his hands in surrender.

 

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you.” Victor apologized profusely.

 

Yuri drew himself up to his full height, eyes dark and full of anger.

 

“Never call me beautiful again,” he said quietly, voice full of venom, “Never.”

 

Victor’s mouth dropped open as if ready to say something else, but Yuri skated away before he could. 

 

_ Asshole.  _

 

He saw Yuuri walk over to Victor, both obviously having a conversation about him. He tried to ignore it, continuing to skate through his routine. Minutes passed, then an hour, then another. He kept skating until he heard Yakov call out for the end of practice. 

 

Yuri skated off the ice, breathing hard from the workout. He looked at the clock, shocked to see how late it had become. 

 

_ Fuck I missed the train. Goddamnit.  _

 

“Yurio, do you want a ride home?” Yuuri called out to him from across the rink, “You're staying later than normal.”

 

_ A ride would be nice.  _

 

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied before realizing that it was a mistake. 

 

_ Oh shit. No, no they can't see our house. Fucking hell.  _

 

He quickly packed up how bags, shoving his skates in and putting on his shoes. He hoped that he could sneak out without anyone noticing his absence, but Victor was waiting for him at the door. 

 

“I am sorry I upset you earlier,” Victor said, “I hope driving home will make up for it.”

 

Yuri shrugged. “It's no big deal, but I actually-”

 

“Alright, ready?” Yuuri interrupted, coming up from behind them. Victor nodded, kissing his cheek. 

 

_ Ugh, gross. How do I get out of this? _

 

Yuri pulled out his phone, pretending he noticed a text. 

 

“Oh, my grandpa is on his way already,” he lied effortlessly, “He's halfway here so I'm going to wait.”

 

Victor's eyes brightened. “I'm so glad he got his car fixed!”

 

_ I can't keep track of all the damn lies. _

 

“Yeah, finally!” Yuri said, guilt squeezing him as he lied. 

 

Yuuri and Victor said goodnight and Yuri waited until they pulled out of the lot before he sighed and began his long, weary walk home. 

 

_ It's going to take me at least three hours to walk home. This is going to suck. At least I can use my skates as knives if I get jumped.  _

 

He began heading down the road, admiring the city lights. Walking for an hour, he began to shiver as the temperature dropped into the lower digits. 

 

After a while, the neighborhoods were looking a little more threatening and he started to grip his backpack a little more tightly. He knew he'd be mostly okay in his own neighborhood, but he had at least another hour to go. 

 

Loud, pumping music could be heard from cars going down the road. He heard some stray gunshots in the distance, nothing out of the ordinary for his neighborhood. 

 

He gritted his teeth and walked through the rough areas, keeping his head down and trying not to draw attention to himself. As he approached his own neighborhood, he relaxed a little, pleased that he hadn't run into any trouble. 

 

He was almost home, turning the corner to his street. The store on the corner was closed but there were still people inside, smoking and talking. As he headed towards his house, he noticed someone staggering down the road. 

 

_ No fucking way.  _

_ Mama, what the hell are you doing out on the street? _

 

She looked dazed, with a strange smile on her features as she walked slowly down the sidewalk. Yuri’s gut clenched as he recognized she was high. 

 

“Hey,” he said grabbing her shoulder, “Look at me, what are you on?”

 

She continued to give him an unnerving smile, saying nothing. 

 

_ I don't have time for this shit.  _

 

“What are you on? Mama, you promised me!” he cried, shaking her. She came to a little bit. 

 

“Oh…Yuri. Hi…” she mumbled, stumbling slightly. 

 

He gripped her arm, trying to steady her. 

 

“Look at me,” he said harshly, trying to snap her into reality, “What did you take?”

 

“Pavel gave us some crystal,” she said dreamily, “It’s great.”

 

_ Fucking Pavel! It’s probably because I turned him down earlier. Asshole. Ugh, if I could just go one week without having to do this... _

 

“Yuri...you want some? Pavel gave me some,” she offered. 

 

He shook his head. “No, no drugs. Mama, we need to get you home, okay?”

 

She nodded, letting him take her arm as they walked up the driveway. Yuri turned the key in the lock but before he could twist the handle, the door flew open. His grandfather was there with a relieved expression.

 

“Yurachka, it’s one in the morning!” he cried, obviously panicked. His eyes widened when he saw the state of his daughter.

 

_ High as a fucking kite. _

 

Yuri said nothing, just helped his mother through the threshold and up the stairs. She was difficult to maneuver, mumbling nonsense and swaying slightly.

 

“Yurachka, dance with me!” she giggled, causing them to waver.

 

Yuri grimaced. “No, Mama. You need to get to bed.” He forced her up the stairs and into her room, where she collapsed on the bed, still laughing slightly. Once she had calmed down, he slid off her shoes, covered her with a blanket, and turned out the light, gently closing the door behind him.

 

_ Months of being clean, wasted. Fucking Pavel. That goddamn asshole.  _

 

Yuri stormed to his bedroom, collapsing on his own bed. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through all the messages he had missed. His heart clenched as he realized he forgot to call Otabek.

 

**Beka <3: ** **_Three missed calls_ **

**Beka <3: ** Yura? You there?

**Beka <3:** Aw, Yura I wanted to talk to you!

**Beka <3: ** It’s getting pretty late now. Hope everythings ok. xx<3

 

_ Goddamnit. I missed him. Shit! _

 

Yuri felt turns burn in his eyes, but he hastily rubbed at them.

 

_ Eyes of a soldier. I can’t let this get to me. I’ll….call him tomorrow. I’ve got to be on alert tonight in case something goes wrong with Mama. There’s no way I can make it to practice tomorrow, I’ll have to call in sick to Yakov. _

 

_ He’s going to kill me. _

 


	3. What Will It Be?

When Yuri woke up he felt like _shit._

 

_My head. Ugh._

 

He was starving, sore, thirsty, and exhausted. Through hazy eyes he saw that it was only six in the morning, meaning he had gotten less than four hours of sleep the previous night. He sent a hasty text to Yakov explaining that he was ill and would be missing practice, and threw his phone back down.

 

_Maybe today I can just rest. Hopefully things will stay quiet._

 

_Shit...Mama!_

 

Leaping from the bed, he raced outside his room, pounding on his mother’s door frantically.

 

“Mama, mama are you okay?” he asked, panicked, “I’m coming in.”

 

Shoving open the door, he was relieved to see that his mother was still sleeping, mumbling incoherently as she shifted a bit on the bed. Sighing, Yuri closed the door gently, hoping that her crash wouldn’t be too bad when she woke up.

 

He walked down the stairs, too awake to go back to sleep. Heading for the coffee maker, he poured enough for three and began to brew. The rich aroma filled the kitchen and soon his grandfather came to join him, the smell waking him.

 

“Ah, coffee!” Nikolai exclaimed happily, “You are a true godsend, Yurachka.”

 

_Some godsend. I can’t even keep her sober._

 

They were both startled by a loud hammering sound on the door. Yuri grabbed the bat they kept under the stairs for emergencies and threw open the door, shocked to see a bright yellow eviction notice was hammered to their porch.

 

A group of men were there wearing uncomfortable expressions.

 

“Kid, we’re going to have to ask you and your family to vacate the premise immediately,” one of them finally said, "This is an eviction notice."

 

_No, no fucking way, I put the money in an envelope and mailed it! It got mailed! I paid it!_

 

Yuri heard his grandfather trying to reason with the men while his own mind went blank with shock. The workers entered their home and began to move things out into the street. Coming to his senses, Yuri raced in and grabbed the calendar he used to keep track of the bills.

 

“No, no we paid the bill!” Yuri said, panicked as the men moved their items into the street, “Look, see? I have it paid on this date.”

 

A quiet noise from the stairs caused him to look up. His mother was standing there, tears falling from her eyes.

 

_No._

_No._

_She fucking did **not**... _

 

“Mama, what did you do?” he asked, voice cold and hard.

 

“I’m sorry, Yurachka! I…”

 

_She fucking stole the rent to buy drugs. Again._

_Fucking. Hell._

_There’s no way to fix it this time. I’ve sold everything. There’s nothing left._

_This is really it._

 

Tears threatened to come into his eyes, but he put on his fiercest expression, hastily dialing a number on his cell.

 

“Mrs. Kozlov? It’s Yuri. We lost the house,” he said, pausing while his neighbor gave her condolences, “Thanks. Would it be too much trouble if my grandfather stays in the spare room like last year? I can pay you rent.”

 

He sighed in relief as she told him that would be fine. His grandfather was protesting, but he had too much on his mind to care. Racing up to his room, he hastily opened his backpack and crammed in all of his important possessions, mostly what he needed for skating and his phone. Everything else…

 

Well, it’d be stolen by sundown.

 

Watching their possessions be put out on the front lawn, Yuri sat at the top of the stairs.

 

He didn’t shed a tear.

 

* * *

 

It had been a week since they had lost the house.

 

As predicted, all their items were stolen off the street before the day was out. He wasn’t surprised, and it was actually almost a little bit of a weight lifted off of his shoulders. Now all he owned in the world he could fit in a backpack. It was scary, but also kind of freeing in a way.

 

_I may have nothing, I may be homeless, but at least everything I have is portable._

_Right?_

 

At first, he had crashed on a neighbor’s couch, but his mother had caused a disturbance so they were forced to leave. He hadn’t been to the rink since they lost the house; he was too embarrassed to face anyone. His grandfather had been safe with their neighbors and he had been checking in daily, lying to say that he and his mother were with a friend.

 

He had guiltily ignored the calls from Victor and Yuuri, ignored the worried texts from his boyfriend. He had spent the last few days sitting in an abandoned building that he was currently crashing in. His mother had disappeared several nights ago and his grandfather was still living in their neighbors house.

 

Yuri was _truly_ alone.

 

At night, he slept with his phone charger tied around his wrist so if someone tried to steal it, he would wake up. The people that were taking shelter in the building had rigged up a generator that he could access to charge his phone so at least he still had one method of communication.

 

Not that he _wanted_ to communicate right now.

 

He felt the worst about ignoring Otabek. They used to call each other every night and leave flirty texts, but the last few weeks Yuri had felt like the worst boyfriend on the planet. He had completely ignored everything Otabek had sent him, and for the first few days his boyfriend hadn’t seemed too concerned. They were both busy. By the fourth day however, Otabek was _worried._ He wasn’t even mad, he was just worried about Yuri. He called multiple times a day and texted frequently. Yuri just didn’t know what to say to him.

 

He was just so _angry._

 

He was bitter, so fucking bitter _,_ and Yuri honestly didn’t think he could make it through a call without crying, or worse, spilling the whole truth.

 

_What the fuck would I say? I’m a homeless disappointment who couldn’t even keep his family safe? No fucking way._

 

His stomach growled, distracting him from his dark thoughts. He hadn’t eaten for nearly two full days and he was beginning to feel weak and dizzy, not a good condition in his present living space. So far, he hadn’t encountered trouble about here, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone tried to exploit him. Uneasily, he curled onto the small blanket he had managed to salvage and tried to get some uneasy sleep.

 

Several hours passed before he was awakened by someone shaking him roughly.

 

“Hey, get up, kid,” the gruff voice said, “Pavel wants to see you.”

 

Yuri cracked an eye open and immediately went on the defensive, seeing three burly men standing over him.

 

_I recognize them. They run with the traffickers. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I am so fucked. Pavel must have heard about what happened to us._

 

Yuri knew he was too weak to run and definitely too weak to fight, so he stood, making sure his phone was safely in his pocket. He didn’t have anything else except the clothes on his back and shoes on his feet, the rest of it had been stolen days ago.

 

“Come on, then,” one of them said and Yuri shoved his hands in his pockets, angrily following. As they walked through the building, his senses were on high alert, noticing that more men were in there than the thought. Some women, too, very clearly employed by Pavel’s crew.

 

_Have I been crashing in their headquarters this whole time? Shit._

 

Yuri knew he could be in serious trouble, so carefully making sure no one was watching, he tilted his phone ever so slightly out of his pocket, casually sliding his thumb up to send a text.

 

_Who is my best bet? Yuuri doesn’t check his phone that much, Beka isn’t even in Russia…_

_I know. Victor. He’ll see it._

 

Carefully, he opened a text to Victor, hoping no one would see.

 

 **Yuri:** in trouble

 

There was a pause for a moment, Yuri seeing the ‘...’ appearing and he felt relieved.

 

 **Victor:** Thank god. We’ve been so worried about you. Where are you? Are you okay? I’m calling.

 **Yuri:** don’t call not ok

 **Victor:** I will track your phone on GPS. Do not turn it off. Help is on the way.

 

Relieved, Yuri also felt guilty because he was being so vague. He was sure Victor was picturing him dying in the street somewhere.

 

_Honestly, that might not be far off if I refuse Pavel again. He made it fairly clear what he wanted from me._

 

The men turned suddenly, leading Yuri into a small room. Sure enough, there was the dealer, sitting in a swivel chair in an otherwise empty room, smoking a cigarette.

 

“You’ve been hard to track down, Yura,” the man cooed.

 

_I’m going to puke. He makes my skin crawl._

 

Pavel stood and Yuri nervously noticed two men blocking the only exit to the room.

 

“Now, I’ve been more than kind with my offers to you,” Pavel continued in a disgustingly sweet tone, “I think I deserve a little thanks, don’t you?”

 

Yuri said nothing. He had no idea which answer would get him out unscathed.

 

Pavel seemed delighted, clapping his hands together. “See that, gentleman? That is what I’m talking about! A cold-eyed minx, this one. He’ll make us a fortune. Won’t you, Yura?”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Yuri said, before he could stop the words.

 

Pavel’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You should speak more respectfully to your elders, _Yura_. I am offering you shelter, money, food, a safe place. Anyone in this neighborhood would be happy to accept my offer.”

 

He stood up, causing Yuri to take an unconscious step back. Walking forward, he leered down at Yuri, reaching out a finger towards his face. Yuri fought back revulsion as the older man traced a finger from his hair, across his lips, and down his chest. His body gave an involuntary shudder at the unwelcome advance.

 

“You are nothing,” Pavel spat, “But you _are_ beautiful. Work for me and I guarantee your family will have shelter and enough to eat.”

 

_The worst part is I know it’s true. Kids trade their freedom and innocence to protect their family, right? God, he is such a fucking asshole._

 

Yuri stared him down, eyes ice cold and devoid of emotion. Pavel smirked at him, waiting his reply. After a long tense moment, the trafficker asked him a question. What happened after would haunt Yuri for the rest of his life.

  
“So, Yura, what will it be?”


	4. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are strapped in for a bumpy, angsty ride!
> 
> TW: Implied/referenced rape/non-con and violence

Yuri was numb.

 

_Where am I? Shit. How long have I been walking?_

 

The last few hours had been an utter nightmare and Yuri was doing his best to block out the thoughts. Something nagged at him, like he was forgetting something important, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

 

_Maybe I should be worried about getting jumped. No...I don’t have anything. Just my clothes and shoes. Where is my phone? Did they…Oh, it got smashed. Right?_

 

He kept walking down the middle of the street, trying his best to keep the memories from the night at bay. They flashed in front of his eyes anyway.

 

_“He really is a pretty one, isn’t he, boys?”_

_“We’re going to have a lot of fun with you, kitten.”_

_“After this, you can work every corner from here to Moscow.”_

 

Yuri winced as he took too big of a step and it pulled a strained muscle. He knew he looked awful, black and blue on his face and some dried blood on his pants.

 

_“Why isn't he screaming? Usually they scream.”_

_“That must be why Pavel likes him. He doesn't feel anything!”_

_"He'll be good to work soon. High class clients only."_

 

The ground seemed to sway under him as he continued to walk down the street. He was unsure how long he had been walking; one hour, maybe two. It was cold.

 

_I feel like I’m forgetting something…_

_I don’t quite...remember…_

 

Yuri stopped, exhaustion coming over him in waves. He spotted a bench across the street and walked over to it, relieved to finally be sitting after walking for so long. His legs tingled with numbness, cold shivers wracked his body. Letting his eyes close he tried to forget what had happened the previous night.

 

_I should probably head somewhere to sleep this off…_

_Wait, is it Monday?_

_Oh shit, I have practice today. Yakov is going to kill me!_

 

Forgetting that he was dirty, cold, sore, starving, and bruised, Yuri leapt off the bench and headed towards the train station. He still had his train pass in his pants pocket although all his other possessions were gone.

 

_Literally all I own is what I am wearing. I don’t even have my skates. How am I going to explain this? Fuck, it doesn’t matter! I need to practice!_

 

Ignoring the pain in his battered body, Yuri broke into a run, just barely catching his train at the stop. He collapsed in the nearest seat, ignoring the stares from strangers. Closing his eyes, he dozed off while the train headed into the city. When the bell for his stop  _dinged_ , Yuri leapt up and headed straight for the rink.

 

_It’s been...a week? Is that right? I’ve lost track of time. I wish I had my phone._

_God, this fucking hurts. Why do I hurt?_

_I can’t...really think. What happened?_

 

Yuri’s mind was protecting itself, blocking out the memories and shock of his experiences the night before. He couldn’t remember what had happened to him, only that he was sore, dirty, _starving_ , and freezing.

 

_I’m so fucking hungry. When was the last time I ate?_

 

Trying to ignore his growling stomach, Yuri’s heart leapt as he recalled his extra pair of skates and training clothes at the rink. Yakov had them stored there in case Yuri ever forgot his others.

 

_I still have something, I guess._

 

As he drew close to the rink, he noticed the world was beginning to wake up and start the day. It was close to eight a.m. now and the official rink hours didn’t begin until noon. Due to the number of professional skaters using the rink, the public hours had been greatly reduced. Yuri knew that Victor, Yuuri, and the others didn’t usually arrive until around nine.

 

_Which means I have an hour to practice alone. Yes!_

 

Yuri raced into the rink, rushing to the locker room. The first thing he did was tear off his clothes, the sight of them making him feel sick for some reason. He took a quick shower, cleaning off his dirty body and frowning at how well he could see his ribs. Drying off, he shoved his tattered clothes into the trash can and changed into the spare set he kept here.

 

Being clean for the first time in a week felt _amazing._ Yuri felt a little more alive as he tied up his skates. Heading out, he felt his whole body relax as he looked at the ice. The ghost of a smile on his face, he skated gently to the center and began to warm up, relishing the peace and quiet.

 

_Why do I feel like I’m still forgetting something?_

 

He may have skated for twenty, thirty minutes tops before a startled shout broke him out of his reverie. Eyes glancing upwards he saw one of the rink employees looking at him white as a ghost, quickly dialing a number and yelling into their phone.

 

_What’s up with him?_

 

Ignoring the strange scene, Yuri went back to practicing, running through his warm ups. Another ten minutes or so passed before a familiar voice startled him into the present moment.

 

 _"Y_ _urachka!”_ a loud voice called from the side of the rink. Yuri looked up to see Yakov looking relieved and out of breath as he watched his student gliding around on the ice.

 

_He looks like he’s seen a ghost. What is wrong with him? I…_

_Oh._

_Oh fuck._

_The text! I texted Victor. Shit, shit, shit! I remember now, I told him I was in trouble. They must have been looking for me. Oh God._

 

Yuri felt panicked as he tried to think of a cover story for what had happened to him.

 

_Don’t think about it too much...um, what’s the easiest? I...I got mugged. Lost all my stuff, including my phone. Yes, that’s the easiest. Fuck, please believe it._

 

Yakov gestured to him and Yuri skated over, panic bubbling under the surface of his skin. He was shocked as two warm arms threw themselves around him, hugging him tightly.

 

He hadn’t been hugged in a long time.

 

“Yurachka, we were so worried,” Yakov said gruffly, “Where have you been? What happened?”

 

Yuri was spared an immediate answer as another set of arms turned him around and pulled him into an even tighter hug.

 

_Victor._

 

“Yurio, you scared us so much,” Victor mumbled in his ear, “I am so happy you are alright.”

 

Yuri pulled back to see Victor and Yuuri were both there looking as if they had just rolled out of bed and drove here as fast as possible. Guilt clenched his stomach as he looked at the bags under their eyes.

 

_How long were they out looking for me?_

 

“Yuri, what happened to your eye?” Yuuri asked in a soft voice, the first to notice the bruise. Victor glanced at it, eyes widening in horror.

 

Yuri swallowed nervously. “I...was...mugged. I got lost after and...they broke my phone…”

 

He winced internally at the sound of his voice. He sounded _dead_ and _cold_ and _wrong_. There was no emotion, just a flat tone.

 

_Why the fuck do I sound like a robot? What the hell is happening?_

 

“Mugged? Oh my god,” Yuuri murmured, looking at him in shock, “Do you need to go to the hospital? We should call the police.” Victor and Yakov nodded in agreement.

 

Yuri panicked.

 

_Fuck no. If they call the police...no, that can’t happen. I won’t even think about it!_

 

“Someone saw it happen and called the police,” he lied, “I already reported everything.”

 

Victor frowned. “Then why didn’t we hear from you? Didn’t they let you call?”

 

Guilt burned in his stomach. He had to lie, they couldn’t find out what had happened. They just _couldn’t_.

 

“I called my mother,” he lied again, “She came to get me. I was so...I’m sorry, I guess I just…”

 

Yuuri was looking at him with a strange expression, almost like he was trying to look inside of him for more of the truth. Yakov looked surprised.

 

“Your mother?” Yakov asked, “I thought she was ill.”

 

_Fuck. Shit. The damn lies! There are too many!_

 

To his horror, Yuri felt tears beginning to brim and a sob well up in his throat. He was panicking internally, unable to decide how to lie next.

 

_No. I won’t cry. If I didn’t cry last night, I’m sure as hell not crying now._

_Eyes of a soldier._

_Eyes...of a solider?_

_Shit! Beka!_

 

“Beka,” he whispered suddenly, covering his mouth in horror, “I….I have to call him. Please, Victor!”

 

Victor nodded, looking at Yuri worriedly as he handed him his phone. Yuri hastily dialed Otabek’s number, praying the other would answer. It rang once before it was picked up.

 

“Victor?” Otabek asked, “Have you heard from him?”

 

Yuri felt the tears threaten to return. Otabek sounded so _worried_ , so fucking scared and it was all Yuri’s fault.

 

_I made him feel like this._

 

“Victor?” Otabek asked, and Yuri realized he should answer.

 

“B-Beka…” he choked out, noticing the others moving away to give him space as he talked to his boyfriend.

 

“...Yura,” Otabek answered sounding relieved, “Oh my god, Yura! I have been so worried! Are you alright? Where have you been?”

 

_What do I say? Which lies did I tell him? Fuck, I can’t keep them straight anymore._

 

“I got mugged,” he said, sticking with the lie most forefront in his mind, “They took my phone. I’m sorry.”

 

“Fuck,” Otabek cursed, “Yura, _are you alright?_ Did they hurt you?”

 

Yuri swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “No...I mean, a little but...nothing bad. I can still skate.”

 

Otabek questioned him a mile a minute, asking if he was alright, if he needed him, how he was feeling. It was overwhelming. The conversation lasted another few minutes before Yuri suddenly realized how weak he was.

 

_Shit...I haven’t eaten in...three days?_

_Oh fuck, I’m going to pass out! Fucking hell!_

 

Otabek was saying something to him on the phone, but Yuri felt the ground sway under him and darkness sweep over him. His last thought before he completely blacked out, deaf to all the worried shouts was of his secrets.

 

_Don’t take me to a damn hospital._

_Please, god, just don’t let them find out._


	5. Silence Speaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad for taking a week to update, so here's a second chapter for today. I hope you like it!

_ “He’s a pretty one.” _

_ “Pavel doesn’t usually go for high class kids like this. Wonder why he wants him so bad?” _

_ “Probably for our pickier clients. You know, like an escort type thing. They won’t want your average street kid.” _

_ “This one’s perfect. Man, Pavel’s got a good eye.” _

 

Yuri shot up, blinking furiously, the words from his dream still echoing in his mind. He panicked a bit when he realized he was in unfamiliar surroundings, a clean and dark bedroom. It smelled nice, kind of like candles, and everything looked homey.

 

_ It doesn’t look dangerous. But...wait. What happened? Wasn’t I at the… _

_ Oh. _

_ Fuck. _

 

Yuri groaned in embarrassment as he remembered passing out in front of his friends and coach. He reddened more as he realized he had been  _ on the phone  _ with Otabek at the time. Knowing he must have scared his boyfriend to death, on instinct he reached for his phone before remembering that it was gone.

 

_ Smashed to pieces. Right. _

 

Focusing on the present problem, Yuri quietly got out of bed, ignoring a dull throbbing pain in his forehead. He tread softly, recognizing he wasn’t wearing his own clothes. Heart pounding faster, he reached for a decorative statue of a bird that was on a dresser near the door, heavy enough to be used as a weapon if necessary. Years of living in bad neighborhoods had taught him all he needed to know about protecting himself on the fly. Pressing his ear up against the door, he listened for any sounds to give him a hint at where he was.

 

_ This apartment is nice enough to belong in the trafficking ring somewhere. If they somehow found me and got to me, claiming to be family, well… _

_ Then I’m fucked. _

 

Hearing nothing but ambient noise, he gripped the bird statue in one hand and slowly reached for the doorknob, turning it as softly as possible. Gently, he pushed it open a fraction of an inch. As he pushed open the door, a big, brown blur came at him and knocked him down to the floor, causing him to shout in shock.

 

_ What the fuck? What the hell is this… _

_ Oh. It’s Makkachin. _

_ Wait...oh god, I’m such an idiot. This must be Victor and Yuuri’s place. _

 

“No! Bad dog!” Victor said, coming and pulling the eager Makkachin off of Yurio, “Come on, let him up, you big fluffball.”

 

Yuri pushed himself up off the floor with shaky hands, leaving the statue on the floor and hoping Victor wouldn’t notice it there. Once Victor had the dog under control he looked at Yuri in concern.

 

“Are you alright? You slept for almost sixteen hours,” he said quietly.

 

_ Holy shit. That long? _

 

Saying nothing, Yuri stood still. He didn’t feel safe crossing the threshold for some reason and his body still felt weak. His stomach smarted with hunger, growling. Victor noticed and his face brightened.

 

Victor turned and called over his shoulder. “Yuuri! Yurio is awake and hungry! Can we have some of your delicious katsudon,  _ please? _ ”

 

“Yeah, I’ll start making it!” Yuuri called from another room in the apartment. Yuri’s stomach growled at the thought of food,  _ any _ food. Victor held out his hand and Yuri took it unconsciously, allowing himself to be lead through the apartment.

 

Yuri wasn’t paying too much attention to his surroundings now that he knew he was safe, but a soft gasp from the living room brought him back to reality.

 

“Yura,” the voice said and Yuri’s heartbeat quickened.

 

_ No no no. No. He can’t see me like this! He’ll figure it out! He knows me too well. Fuck, shit, fuck! _

 

“Beka…” he gasped in surprised and he felt two warm arms surround him. Despite his worries about Otabek finding out the truth, he relaxed into the embrace, feeling safer than he had in weeks.

 

“Beka what are you doing here?” he mumbled into the taller skater’s shirt. Otabek pulled away and looked at him seriously.

 

“What am I  _ doing _ here? You went missing for a week, got mugged, and  _ passed out _ when you were on the phone! Yura, I’ve been worried sick about you,” he gushed, eyes bright. 

 

Yuri’s stomach clenched with guilt as he realized what he put his boyfriend through the past week. He knew that Otabek had probably come to some nasty conclusions and some were probably pretty close to the truth.

 

“Yura…” Otabek said quietly as he looked,  _ really _ looked at his boyfriend, “Yura. Look at me.”

 

Yuri swallowed, looking up with the most emotionless expression he could muster. It was better than showing all of his feelings and being exposed. He was well aware of Victor and Yuuri witnessing the whole encounter as well. 

 

Otabek looked close to tears as he saw the state of Yuri’s body, skinny and bruised.

 

“Oh, Yura,” he whispered, “What...what  _ happened  _ to you?” 

 

Yuri felt the tears threatening to well up inside him again, but he squashed them down, prepared to put on his soldier eyes. Anything to keep the truth away, the memories from haunting him.

 

“I...haven’t...been eating,” Yuri said finally. He knew it would be taken the wrong way, but it  _ was _ the truth. At least, part of it.

 

Otabek looked devastated at the revelation. “Why?”

 

_ Because I can’t afford food. Because I’m homeless. Because I sold my gold medal for medication. Because my grandfather is ill and can’t work and my mother is a drug addict who ran off after a meth binge. Because sex traffickers kidnapped me and… _

_ No.  _

_ I’ll just… _

_ Say nothing. _

And so he said nothing, waiting for the fallout. The apartment was silent and not even Makkachin was making noise. Tension was so thick in the air that Yuri could almost taste it. Unable to bear it no longer, his emotions got the better of him.

 

“I’m fine, okay? I just...my mom got sick and I got stressed out, and everything’s okay now. I just...had a bad week.”

 

It was a terrible lie and everyone there could see it. However, no matter what Yuri tried, he could not bring himself to say anything even close to the truth. He was too scared, too scared of everyone’s pity and how they would see him differently. Otabek’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he took Yuri’s hands in his and lead him over to the couch. Yuri’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour, waiting at the defensive for the onslaught that was sure to come.

 

“I know you’re lying to me,” Otabek said quietly as he stroked Yuri’s hand gently. Yuri’s face burned.

 

“This is something...really big, isn’t it?” Otabek continued and Yuri nodded, in spite of himself.

 

Shifting on the couch, Otabek moved so they were close together, but still enough space that Yuri didn’t feel trapped. He wondered how his boyfriend knew so well what he needed.

 

“Tell me one small truth. Just one,” Otabek pleaded, “Anything, Yura. Just give me part of the truth. A bit at a time.”

 

_ I can do that. I can face that. One piece of the truth? Yeah….yeah. Maybe...maybe if I give him that, he’ll be happy and he won’t find out everything. Yeah. Shit, okay. _

 

Yuri’s face was still expressionless, his eyes still cold and hard. He knew it was probably unnerving everyone else in the room but it was the only way that he could control his own emotions. 

 

“My mother…” he began softly, “She...she’s not...physically ill.”

 

Otabek nodded, in encouragement. Yuri knew Victor and Yuuri were listening intently, but he figured that this was their apartment, they had a right to hear. Maybe if everyone heard this bit, they’d back off from the rest.

 

“She...she has a mental illness,” Yuri continued, “I’m not sure what it is, she won’t get herself checked out but...I’ve been trying to take care of her since I was a kid and…” 

 

He paused, taking a breath before trying to get the worst out. “She...she’s an addict. Last week, she disappeared after she get a hold of something.”

 

Yuri heard Victor’s sharp intake of breath behind him, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on Otabek. Otabek needed to hear part of the truth, he would give it to him.

 

“Drugs?” Otabek inquired, eyes sad.

 

Yuri swallowed. “She was clean for a while, but last week she vanished after getting a hold of some from a dealer. I...I’ve been out looking for her. My grandfather, he can’t, his back...he can barely move around the house on a good day let alone wander the streets so…”

 

Otabek was looking at him and his eyes were so  _ sad _ and Yuri had never felt more exposed in his life. He knew that they were going to think he wasn’t eating because he was looking for his mother and he got mugged for being in a bad part of town while looking for her.

 

Yes.

 

That is what they had to believe. It was close to the truth and...it was safer than the truth.

 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri mumbled from somewhere behind him and Yuri forced himself to ignore it.

 

Otabek was looking at his ravaged body and into his eyes and suddenly Yuri knew that he wasn’t buying it. 

 

_ Fuck. He knows I’m not telling him everything. Well, he did ask for only part of the truth. _

 

“Yura…” Otabek said, “I’m sorry. Thank you for telling me, I know that was hard for you.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Yuri’s forehead. Yuri flushed, happy but a little embarrassed as Victor and Yuuri were still in the room. 

 

It was then that he realized Otabek’s hands were shaking slightly.

 

_ Oh shit. He’s nervous! He’s trying to be strong but he knows I’m lying and he doesn’t know what to do. Fuck. Shit. What do I say? _

 

“Beka…” he said quietly, “I...it’s a really long story, okay?” 

 

He hoped that Otabek would understand this as an  _ I’ll tell you later _ and he was relieved when his boyfriend nodded, squeezing his hands gently.

 

“Okay. Okay, Yura,” he said shakily, kissing Yuri’s knuckles. Yuri’s stomach swooped at the sight and the sensation.

 

“Yuri…” Victor’s voice came from behind him, “I know you want to find your mother, but we can’t just let you wander the streets by yourself.”

_ I know. Dumbass. _

 

“I know.”

 

Yuuri came over next. “We could...do you want us to drive you around while you look? It would be safer than you being on your own.”

 

_ Shit...they’d...really do that? _

_ But we won’t find her. Not unless she wants to be found. _

 

Yuri shook his head. “She’s long gone. She’ll turn up in a couple months when her money runs out. I don’t even think she’s in the city anymore.”

 

_ It’s a lie, but I can’t…I can’t have you poking around.  _

 

They nodded sadly in understanding. Victor suddenly looked concerned, as if he had remembered something.

 

“Yuri, your grandfather! Yakov has been trying to reach him, but the phone number he has isn’t working.”

 

_ That’s because it was disconnected. Fucking hell. _

 

“I’ll call him...can I borrow a phone, please?” Victor nodded. 

 

Yuri dialed the number for the neighbors where his grandpa was staying. When he got on the line with him, Yuri told the same lies about the mugging that he told the others. He wasn’t sure if his grandfather believed it, but he acted like he did over the phone. After asking for the hundredth time if Yuri was alright, they hung up with a quick ‘I love you’ and Yuri breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Yuuri had gone back to cooking, and the four of them sat down around the table to enjoy the delicious katsudon. Although Yuri was ravenous, he ate slowly, relishing each bite.

 

_ I’m not sure the next time that I’ll be eating. _

  
_ I better make this last. _


	6. Safe Harbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: Mentions of drug use/addiction/dealing, implied/referenced rape/non-con and violence, discussions of homelessness

 

After dinner, Victor and Yuuri offered Otabek a place to spend the night. After a quick goodnight, Yuri headed to the guest bedroom with his boyfriend. Otabek closed the door behind them, the peace of the silent space soothing Yuri’s frazzled mind.

 

“Yura…” he started, but Yuri didn’t want to hear it. It had been long, so _damn long_ since they had been alone together and he wanted nothing more than to kiss his boyfriend senseless. Pressing his lips to Otabek’s in a fierce kiss, he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s back. Otabek responded eagerly, sighing into the kiss and running his hands down Yuri’s back. They kissed for a long time, relishing in each other before Otabek finally pulled away, eyes dark.

 

“Yura, I’m crazy about you, but we’ve got to stop,” he panted, “I want...I miss you. I want to talk.”

 

_Fuck. Okay...fine._

 

Yuri nodded, gesturing towards the bed. Otabek laid down, opening his arms and Yuri gladly entered into his embrace. They lay in silence for a few moments, Otabek gently running his hand through Yuri’s hair.

 

“When you passed out on the phone, it didn’t hang up right away,” Otabek murmured.

 

_What?_

 

Yuri looked up at him in surprise.

 

“I could still hear everything, everyone panicking. They just kept saying ‘he isn’t waking up’ and I was screaming for someone to tell me what was happening, but no one did. I thought…”

 

_Fucking hell._

 

“I’m sorry,” Yuri croaked out, kissing his boyfriend’s neck, “I...didn’t know.”

 

Otabek laced their fingers together. “I know. I was so scared though, Yura. So scared.”

 

Yuri curled into him, the two holding each other close. They kept their hands laced together until Otabek eventually drifted off into sleep. Yuri tried, but his mind was too wired to allow him to relax. Eventually, he began to relax himself until he head a quiet conversation on the other side of the door.

 

“Yuri was lying about calling the police,” Yuuri said softly, “Remember, he said his mother came to get him.”

 

“He was probably too upset to call them,” Victor responded sadly. There were rustling noises from outside the door and Yuri’s stomach clenched.

 

_Don’t come in._

 

Otabek’s arms were wrapped around him and their legs were tangled together on the bed. His boyfriend was napping soundly and Yuri felt safe and at peace. Not wanting to be disturbed, he curled closer to Otabek and closed his eyes, hoping that if the door opened they’d take pity and leave him alone.

 

Sure enough, the door opened a crack and Yuri feigned sleep, the gentle rise and fall of Otabek’s chest soothing him.

 

“Victor, don’t wake them,” Yuuri whispered, “It’s the first good sleep either of them have had in weeks.”

 

_Fuck. Don’t remind me of how much I worried Beka._

 

“I won’t, I just wanted to check on them,” Victor said, “They both deserve a restful night.”

 

The door closed again, and Yuri relaxed, finally drifting off into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next day, all four of them went to the rink to practice. Yuri was behind, very behind where he wanted to be in his program and he was working hard to finish it. Otabek was working on a new jump and Yuuri and Victor were talking him through it. Yuri was lacing his own skates up, ready to begin cleaning up his step sequence.

 

“Yurachka,” the gruff voice of his coach startled him, “I need to speak with you.”

 

Yakov looked upset and Yuri felt his stomach clench with worry. Nodding, he stood up to follow Yakov into a small room at the side of the rink. Closing the door behind them, Yakov sighed heavily before speaking.

 

“Your grandfather called me,” he began, “He told me what happened to your home.”

 

_No. No fucking way._

 

Yuri couldn’t speak. All his fears were coming true and he didn’t know what to do to stop it.

 

_Please no. Please don’t tell me you know about my mom…_

 

“He told me...your possessions were stolen and that you have no place to live. Is this true?”

 

Yuri nodded silently, looking at the floor. His face was burning with shame.

 

Yakov sighed again. “This is unacceptable. No student of mine will live on the streets. I have spoken with Yuuri and Victor, and they have agreed to house you.”

 

_What? No...you told them? No, please tell me you didn’t…_

 

“They don’t know about your living situation. I said it was for the best, given your mother’s condition,” Yakov said, answering his unspoken question. Yuri sighed in relief.

 

_Okay._

_Living with Victor and Yuuri._

_Shit._

_I’ll be able to eat. I’ll have a place to stay. Beka will be here for another few days._

_Okay._

_It gives me time. Time to figure out...what to do next._

 

* * *

 

It was now a week into crashing at Yuuri and Victor’s place and Yuri was a little more relaxed with the arrangement. He wasn’t sure what Yakov had told them as an excuse, but he hoped it wasn’t the truth. However, despite being comfortable, he knew that this couldn’t last forever. He was going to need a plan.

 

_I don’t own anything. I have the new phone that Victor and Yuuri got me, but that’s it. Nothing else. I don’t have anything to sell and I need...I need to get us a place to live. The longer she’s out on the street…_

 

Yuri shook his head, trying to alleviate his dark thoughts. The last week had been strange for him, one of complete and total peace and quiet. Victor and Yuuri treated him like family and he didn’t have to be in charge of anything.

 

It was _nice._

 

Otabek had to fly back to Kazakhstan, only comfortable leaving because he knew that his boyfriend was in a safe place. After a heartfelt goodbye, he had been texting every few hours and calling daily. Yuri appreciated it.

 

In his spare time, he had been racking his brain trying to find a solution as to how he was going to pay for a new place to live and also pay off his family’s debts. He knew that unless he won a gold medal, something that was looking less and less likely this season, he wouldn’t have enough money to pay for a one bedroom apartment let alone all the bills that they owed.

 

_I wonder if I could...sell something? I’m not going to work for Pavel, I refuse to see that bastard again. But...grandpa. He is in so much pain and he needs a comfortable place. Mama...she’s out loose on the streets doing fuck knows what._

 

_I just want us to be home, together. I wish…_

 

Sighing, he stood up to head to the bathroom. He felt like a hot shower might make him feel better. After closing the bathroom door he opened the cabinet to look for some body wash, as there wasn’t any in the shower.

 

His gut clenched as a small, orange bottle caught his eye.

 

_Holy shit. Holy shit! I could sell these! No, no. Don’t think about it. No fucking way, I can’t do that._

 

The label on the bottle read **Alprazolam. Yuuri Katsuki. Take one daily or as needed.**

 

_These are his anxiety meds! I cannot be this much of an asshole. Don’t do it._

 

Unable to get the idea out of his mind, Yuri frowned as he gripped the bottle of anxiety medication.

 

_Am I really about to do this?_

_I am so fucking sorry, Katsudon, but I don’t know what else to do._

 

Hastily, Yuri dumped the contents of the bottle into his pockets, praying he wouldn’t be caught. Just as he was shaking out the last pill, a voice startled him.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

_Oh shit, oh shit. Fucking shit. Victor!_

 

Yuri dropped the bottle, face burning.

 

_How the hell can I explain this?_

 

“Yuri...those are...how _could_ you?” Victor asked, voice hard and disbelieving as he stared at the empty bottle on the counter. The disappointed glare was too much for Yuri and he began to feel himself losing control.

 

The tears that Yuri had been building up for months, for years really, began to burn behind his eyes. He had crossed a line, he knew that, and there was no way to come back from it.

 

_This is it. I....I have to tell him. I have to tell him the truth, otherwise he’ll hate me and if he hates me I’ll lose everyone I have left._

 

“I…” Yuri choked out, “I...I’m so _sorry!”_

 

He sobbed on the last word, burying his face in his hands. The loss of his composure was embarrassing, but the feeling of finally allowing himself to cry was cathartic. He hadn’t cried since he was a child and now years of pent up emotions were coming out of him. He sobbed so hard that he began heaving, grasping at his stomach.

 

The room seemed get smaller and there was _too much air._ He fell to his knees, tears still burning from his eyes as he grabbed at his middle. There was pressure from hands on his back but he didn’t register whose they were.

 

A soft voice was in his ear now. “It’s okay, Yuri. You’re having a panic attack. I need you to breathe with me now. In….out. In….out. Good, keep going.”

 

Yuri listened to the voice, soothing him through the worst of it. When he could finally see again he noticed that he was now on the bathroom floor and his hands were shaking. Lifting his head, he saw both Yuuri and Victor looking at him with extremely concerned expressions.

 

A strange sound was in the room and Yuri realized that it was _him._

 

He was still crying.

 

“Yuri…” Victor said hesitantly, but Yuuri shook his head.

 

“Hey, Yurio,” Yuuri said in a soft, caring voice, “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, okay? Then we can talk. Can you stand?”

 

Still letting out small sobs, Yuri nodded, pride abating enough to let Yuuri pull him up. They lead him to their living room, where he sat on the couch, drawing up his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Overwhelmed and embarrassed, he wanted nothing more than to hide.

 

_No. I have the eyes of a soldier. They won’t fail me now._

 

He let himself fall into his comfortable expression, hard and cold. Icy. He was dimly aware of Victor and Yuuri’s expressions as his own changed. They looked panicked.

 

“Yuri…” Victor tried again after several long, tense moments, “What is going on?”

 

They were sitting across from him in chairs, wanting to give him space to breathe, he assumed. He appreciated it.

 

“What were you planning on doing with my medication?” Yuuri asked quietly. He didn’t sound angry, just concerned.

 

Yuri swallowed nervously. “I can’t tell you that.”

 

Victor looked agitated, running a hand through his hair. “You were _stealing_ drugs _._ We need you to...I mean, why would you do that?”

 

Yuri looked away, not wanting to betray his emotions.

 

“Do you need them for yourself?” Yuuri asked, “Are you trying to manage panic attacks?”

 

Yuri shook his head. “No, that was my first one.”

 

“Then tell us why,” Victor said firmly, ‘We deserve an explanation.”

 

Yuri nodded. He knew that was true, they did deserve an explanation.

 

 _But where in the hell do I start?_ _Might as well get the worst out first._

 

“I was going to sell them,” he admitted.

 

Yuuri and Victor looked shocked. “What?” Victor asked, “What do you mean?”

 

“We lost our house a few months ago. My mother she...she used our rent money for drugs and I didn’t have anything left to sell,” Yuri stated honestly.

 

Yuuri looked so _sad_ for him. “Where have you been living?”

 

_Fuck. Not answering._

 

“Yurio... _where have you been living?_ ” Victor asked, panic in his voice.

 

“My grandfather has been in the spare room at a neighbor's and my mother disappeared. She shot up one night and vanished. I didn’t know where to go, so I just…”

 

Yuri swallowed, looking down at the floor. He was so ashamed. “I just...crashed wherever I could.”

 

“Like...with friends?” Victor asked, hopefully. Yuuri was still looking at him with that damn _sad_ expression.

 

“No, just...there’s this building on the road where our house was, it’s filled with transients. They let me stay there. As long as you don’t bother anyone, it’s okay.”

 

There was silence in the room for a moment, both older men staring at him, unsure of what to say. Victor was eyeing him up and down, putting puzzle pieces from the last few months together. Yuri hated that they knew how pathetic he was. Weak. Pathetic. Homeless.

 

_Please don’t ask me anymore._

 

“My god…” Yuuri said, one hand over his eyes, “Yurio…”

 

Victor stood up, pacing anxiously as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Yuri, please tell me, how did you _really_ get that bruise?”

 

_No. I can’t. Don’t make me. Please._

 

Yuri looked down at the floor, not sure of which words to use. There was no way to describe his experience that made sense in his head. It wasn’t...exactly...well, it wasn’t like they _forced…_ well, they did but…

 

_How do I say this? I don’t want to._

 

“No,” Yuri said, eyes cold and hard. He could feel the remnants of tears on his face from his earlier crying, but now he was completely void of emotion. Shut off. Turned off.

  
Like he had been _that night._

 

“Yurio?” Yuuri asked, voice cracking.

 

Yuri was numb now. The words spilled out of his mouth, unchecked.

 

“I said _no._ ”

 

Yuuri swallowed, looking nervously at Victor who was pacing anxiously.  The room was so silent, Yuri could actually hear his own heartbeat.

 

_I am not fucking telling you. I can’t. I can’t!_

 

Yuri felt panic begin to claw up his chest again and he stood hastily, thrusting his hands in his pockets and putting the pills on the coffee table. Victor and Yuuri were looking at him with unreadable expressions, not saying a word. Hearing himself begin to whimper, Yuri backed up towards the door.

 

_No, no. You can’t ask me about this. I won’t tell you. I won’t!_

 

“Yurio...what are you doing?” Yuuri asked, standing quickly. Yuri backed up and found the door knob with his hand. Turning it quickly, he fled out into the hall and down the stairs. Tears were burning down his face but he couldn’t stop them. Breaking into a run, he headed out the door, ignoring the worried shouts from his friends.

 

He burst through the door to the apartment building and sprinted towards the street. He was panicking now, looking for a safe place to go, one where he wouldn’t have to tell the truth. Knowing he didn’t have a lot of time as Yuuri and Victor followed him, he moved fast, heading for the closest train stop he could find.

 

_Fuck it._

_You’re not finding me._

 

_I can’t do this._

_I just can’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I am doing okay with this fic. I really appreciate the reviews!


	7. Blank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check fic tags for trigger warnings.

The snow was drifting down so gently that it almost looked to Yuri liked he was in a dream. It was dark and silent, the residents of the neighborhood he was wandering through long gone to bed for the night. The street lights were burning dully, some were out completely. A dog barked in the distance. He could see his breath.

 

_I’m so cold._

 

Several days and nights had passed since he had fled from Victor and Yuuri’s apartment. He had left with nothing except the clothes on his back, phone still somewhere on their couch. Yuri wasn’t even sure why he ran, just that he needed to. He needed to get out of there, needed to find a safe place. The trouble was he had no money, had no idea where he was, and he was starving.

 

_I’m going to be be in real trouble soon if I don’t find some food._

 

He was reaching a point of desperation. The memories of what had happened to him were still haunting his dreams and tormenting him. Trying to make sense of them all, he forced himself to remember as much as he could.

 

It didn’t help.

 

Walking slowly through the streets, he kept his eyes peeled for potential threats. Getting more desperate by the hour, he also kept his eyes out for a place to crash. He had gotten by the past few nights by either not sleeping at all or by finding a warm alcove somewhere. Luckily, no one had disturbed him yet but he knew that his good fortune wouldn’t last forever.

 

_I need to find a place to sleep. I need food. I need to get warm._

 

During the day, he received some strange looks from people on the street. He wasn’t dressed for the Russian winter, only wearing a pair of black jeans, tennis shoes, and a hooded sweatshirt. To keep himself from being recognized, he kept the hood pulled over his hair and kept his eyes downcast. He doubted most people would spare him a second glance, but he knew that if he strayed into the nicer neighborhoods he’d eventually stand out.

 

_At last back home I can stick to the back alleys and abandoned buildings. But....then I might see them again. Fuck._

_I’m so hungry._

_What am I going to do?_

 

His physical state was poor; dirty, freezing, starving. Emotionally, he was empty. He just felt...nothing. Turned off. Shut off. He sometimes thought of Otabek, Victor, Yuuri, his grandfather, but he couldn’t summon any feelings of guilt for running.

 

He wasn’t feeling anything anymore.

 

Keeping down the road, he turned into a part of town that was active with nightlife. Clubs and bars lined the streets, sex workers on all corners. It was busy and loud.

 

_Good. I’ll blend in here._

 

Heading towards a better-light corner, he saw a group of young prostitutes, some of whom he recognized from around his neighborhood. He was dryly amused to see that they were dressed a lot like he was.

 

_I’ll fit right in. Maybe Pavel was right._

 

Shoving his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt Yuri walked past the group, avoiding making eye contact. He didn’t want to make friends. No one knew him out here, it was better that way. Beginning to recognize the desperation of his situation, he become more resolved that he would have to take some kind of drastic action, and soon.

 

_What are my options? I can’t call anyone, I can’t let them see me like this. I need money. I need to get grandpa and mama home. Otabek, I’m so sorry. And Victor, Yuuri, Yakov...they must be so worried. Fucking hell. I can’t…_

_What am I going to do?_

_I have no one, no one I can tell the truth to._

_So...what? I have to eat. I can’t stand another second of being cold or hungry. I just want to get warm._

 

Yuri swallowed, resolve building in him.

 

_“A cold-eyed minx, this one. He’ll make us a fortune. Won’t you, Yura?”_

 

Pavel’s words echoed through his head. Yuri knew rationally that this was a terrible decision, that if anyone ever found out about this his career would be over. His friends would be devastated. He would lose Otabek and everyone he cared for.

 

_I’m not worth anything to them, anyway. I’m not a good son, grandson, friend...boyfriend.The only thing I was ever any fucking good at was skating. I missed my last competition...I think it was last week? Fuck, I don’t even know. But this season is over for me, anyway._

 

_So...how am I going to eat?_

 

He sighed, stopping to lean his back against a brick wall. Realizing that he had positioned himself right in the walking path from the bars, his gut clenched.

 

_Am I really going to do this?_

_…._

_It’s not like it matters. They already ruined me anyway. They took everything. At least this way...I can do it on my own terms._

 

An hour passed, maybe two before someone approached him. It was a middle-aged man, dressed well. Businessman. He looked nervously at Yuri, turning his head side to side.

 

“How much?” he asked Yuri quietly.

 

_Fuck...I don’t know._

_Eyes of a soldier...eyes of a soldier._

 

Swallowing his pride, Yuri looked right into the man’s eyes, piercing him with his soldier’s gaze.

 

“I want to eat something,” Yuri replied honestly.

 

The man looked surprised and slightly upset by Yuri’s response, but he nodded, gesturing towards his car. Heart pounding in his chest, Yuri followed him, getting into the passenger’s seat.

 

The ride was silent, no words spoken between them. Yuri had his face pressed against the window, the vibrations from the car giving him something to focus on. His stomach smarted with hunger and he was beginning to get dizzy. At least the car was warm.

 

Eventually, they pulled to a stop in an alley, somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed. The man wrung his hands together nervously, unable to look Yuri in the eye.

 

“I’ve never...done something like this,” he confessed.

 

_Me either. But you don’t need to know that. God, I just want to eat! Stop stalling! I don’t care!_

 

The man turned to him, eyeing Yuri up and down. “How...how old are you, exactly?”

 

“I’m old enough,” Yuri replied harshly.

 

_Come on, asshole. Just...let’s do this before we both lose our nerve, okay? I’m going to fucking pass out if I don’t get food soon._

 

There was an awkward silence in the car before the man turned from Yuri, unzipping his slacks with shaking hands. For a brief moment, Yuri’s mind flashed to images of what Pavel’s men had made him do, and he pushed them from his mind.

 

_This is on my terms. I don’t want to do this, but I am in control. He can’t hurt me._

 

Forcing himself to think of something, anything else, Yuri proceeded to give the man what he asked for. He was laid down in the backseat, feeling his own pants being slid down. There were no words, no consent asked for. Yuri supposed that was a luxury that kids like him weren’t often afforded. He felt fingers inside him, then something else, and it _hurt._

 

He didn’t care.

 

During the whole experience as he felt hot breath panting in his ear, Yuri felt as if he was somewhere else, no longer attached to his body. All he could think of was Otabek.

 

_Beka...I am so sorry. I am nothing, now._

 

A particularly forceful thrust caused him to hit his head on the door of the car, seeing stars for a moment. The man hadn’t noticed, he was too busy finishing himself off. Yuri had never been less aroused in his life. Finally, the man was finished and he rolled off of Yuri, tugging up his own pants.

 

_I…._

_Is this real?_

_It doesn’t feel real._

_None of this…_

_I don’t…._

 

Yuri felt _blank._ Blank, as if he was staring into a mirror, saying his own name over and over until it meant nothing. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before he felt his own pants being pulled up and he registered that someone was speaking.

 

“Are you alright?” the man was asking, voice full of concern. Yuri nodded, sitting up. Dizziness came over him for a moment, from disorientation and hunger. The man didn’t look convinced, but he pulled a wad of money from his wallet, thrusting it into Yuri’s hands.

 

_This is...enough for food and a place to stay. Okay._

 

Yuri gave the man a curt nod, ignoring the soreness in his body. He opened the door, walking out of the car. Clenching the money tightly in his fists, he waited until he was around the corner from the car before stopping to slide most of the money into the bottom of his shoe.

 

_This doesn’t feel real._

_I’m so cold._

_I need food._

 

Continuing to walk, Yuri relaxed when he saw a twenty four hour fast food restaurant with the lights on. Quickening his steps, he walked into the mostly empty restaurant and hastily ordered the first thing on the menu. When he got his order, he sat in a booth, enjoying the warmth as he devoured the meal.

 

_That’s a little better._

_I can...think, sort of._

 

_Fuck._

 

_Oh my god._

_What…_

_What am I doing?_

 

A sudden wave of emotion crashed over him, threatening to swallow him down. Wrapping his arms around his torso, he shut his eyes, recognizing that he was starting to panic. Breathing slowly for several minutes, he got himself back under control.

 

_I…._

_Someone just...paid me...for...sex._

_I...I promised mama...and grandpa….I promised I’d never do this, no matter what…_

_Oh my god._

 

A numb kind of panic was spreading through him now. He felt the reality of what he had done hit him with full force. The food had cleared his head a little and now Yuri felt nothing but disgust. Disgust with himself, disgust with the man who had _hired_ him.

 

_I just want Beka. Beka...I wish you could hold me._

 

The cashier behind the counter was giving him a strange look and Yuri knew he must look a complete wreck. Standing, he walked over with determination in his eyes.

  
“Please, is there a phone I can use?”


	8. I Am Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check fic tags for trigger warnings.

Yuri stared down at the phone that the cashier had handed him.

 

_Who the fuck do I call? Not grandpa. I can’t tell him...no. Beka...no, what would I even say? Victor will panic. Who else? Katsudon, maybe? Would he...help me?_

 

Swallowing nervously, he hastily dialed Yuuri’s cell, hoping he’d catch him alone. While it rang, Yuri felt torn between wanting to hear the older skater’s voice and wanting it to go to voicemail.

 

“ _Hello?_ ” Yuuri answered in broken Russian. Yuri figured he had seen the number and knew it was someone from St. Petersburg calling.

 

“...Katsudon,” he said quietly. His voice was doing that _cold_ and _robotic_ thing again, devoid of emotion.

 

“ _Yurio? Yuri, thank god. We have been looking everywhere for you! Where are you? Are you okay?”_

 

Yuri didn’t answer, guilt clenching at his stomach as recalled stealing the other’s medication. He didn’t even know why he called Yuuri, really.

 

“I’m fine,” Yuri replied in the same cold voice, “Can you come get me?”

 

_“Of course. Where are you?”_

 

Yuri looked around. “At...McDonalds.”

 

There was a pause on the other line. “ _Okay...which one?”_

 

“I don’t know,” Yuri sighed, looking around. The cashier was listening intently to the conversation and quickly wrote down an address and handed it to him. Yuri nodded in thanks.

 

“Ok, here’s the address,” he said, reading it off, “Can you...please come alone?”

 

He felt guilty requesting it, but he didn’t think he could handle both Victor and Yuuri worrying over him and sharing their heartfelt worried looks. It would be a little too much for him to take in his present condition.  


 

“ _Okay. Okay, Yuri. Sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can,_ ” Yuuri promised. Yuri thanked him, hanging up the phone and handing it back to the cashier.

 

Now that Yuri had an address, he did some math in his head and figured out that if Yuuri was coming from their apartment he’d be there in about twenty minutes. Closer to half an hour if he was coming from the rink. Not wanting to pull any money out of his shoe, he took the last few rubles he had in his hand and got a coffee, something to warm him. As he drank, he began to get more and more nervous, leg jangling. Eventually, he couldn’t take it and stood to use the bathroom.

 

Closing the door behind him, he was relieved to see the bathroom was a single stall. He locked the door behind him and took a moment to assess his physical condition in the mirror. His once tight clothes hung loosely off his body and his skin was far paler than normal. Even his bright blue eyes seemed dulled, a symptom of exhaustion and hunger he guessed. Lifting up his sweatshirt, he swallowed in mild disgust as he realized he could make out every single one of his ribs. The bruise on his eye had faded somewhat since the other day, but the outline was still there.

 

He looked like a child. A lost, starving, abused _child_. His mind tried to come to terms with what he had just done in the alley and with his current appearance. Feeling like nothing was real, he splashed some cold water on his face and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. When he had calmed down enough, Yuri stepped out of the restroom back into the main part of the restaurant.

 

“Yuri!” a relieved voice exclaimed and he found himself wrapped in a tight hug.

 

“Katsudon,” Yuri said in equal relief, relaxing in spite of himself. Yuuri pulled away, scanning him up and down for injuries with worried eyes.

 

Yuri looked away, not wanting to face any scrutiny. He felt as if his dirty deeds were laid bare across his skin and the closeness of Yuuri was intimidating him.

 

“Let’s go to my car, okay?” Yuuri said quietly, gently taking hold of Yuri’s hand. Yuri nodded, following the other out into the cold. He shivered reflexively, but followed the older skater into the car, sliding into the passenger seat. Relaxing in the heat of the car, Yuri felt some of the tension leave his body.

 

Yuuri started up the car, shooting a worried glance over in his direction and he began to drive down the street. He looked more and more upset as he saw the area in which he had found Yuri.

 

“Yuri…” he began in trepidation, “What are you doing out here?”

 

_Fuck._

_What do I say?_

_I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m so confused._

 

“Please, we’ve been so worried about you,” Yuuri continued, “I practically had to chain Victor to a chair to stop him from coming with me. And Otabek...Yuri, you should know that he’s here. We’ve all been looking for you.”

 

_Shit._

_Fuck it._

 

Sitting up in his seat, Yuri found himself incapable of holding it inside him any longer.

 

“Beka...I...he can’t see me,” Yuri said, unsure of how else to begin.

 

Yuuri frowned. “Why? He’s been so worried about you.”

 

A burning sensation filled his eyes and Yuri realized he was dangerously close to crying. He swallowed nervously, avoiding Yuuri’s eyes.

 

“Because...because I…”

 

A strange choking sound filled the car and Yuri realized that he had begun to sob. Covering his eyes with his hands, Yuri’s shoulders heaved as the tears poured from him. He was nothing, worse than nothing. He had betrayed his boyfriend and worried his friends. He wasn’t skating anymore, wasn’t supporting his family. He was a street kid who had fallen, just like all the others. A statistic. Nothing.

 

_Worthless._

 

Dimly, he realized that Yuuri had pulled over and parked the car, speaking quietly to him.

 

“It’s okay, Yurio, you can tell me anything. I just want to help you,” Yuuri soothed, rubbing Yuri’s back with a gentle hand.

 

“I’m....” Yuri sobbed, “I…”

 

_Fuck, why can’t I say it? Just say it!_

 

“ _Shlyukha,”_ he sobbed, “I’m a _shlyukha.”_

 

Yuuri’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he looked startled as Yuri’s sobs increased in intensity, until he was almost choking on them. Through his heaving sobs, Yuri saw that Yuuri begun to drive again and had called someone on the phone, speaking hastily.

 

“Victor? We’re on fifth,” Yuuri said softly, “No, I have him but...I need your help. We’re heading home. I might need some help getting him upstairs.”

 

_No...no, I don’t want to see Victor. If we’re going home, Beka will be there. He can’t see me like this, he can’t._

 

“B-Beka…” he choked out, holding his stomach, “He c-can’t see me. _Shlyukha, shlyukha…”_

 

Yuuri looked more concerned. “Victor, he keeps saying something, I don’t know what it means. Look...can you please ask Otabek to wait in the bedroom? Yuri is panicked about seeing him. No, I don’t know. What? The word? He keeps saying...shlyukha, I think?”

 

_Fuck. No!_

 

There was a long pause and Yuuri’s eyes widened, looking over at Yuri.

 

“Yuri...why are you calling yourself a...a whore?”

 

_It sounds worse in English._

_Because I am one!_

_I’m nothing, nothing._

_Fuck, this was a bad idea._

 

Yuri curled in on himself, ignoring the question. He knew they were close to Victor and Yuuri’s apartment and he was bracing himself for the conflict to come. He didn’t want to face Victor, or Otabek. He just wanted to stay in this warm car, curled in a ball.

 

“Yurio?” Yuuri asked again, voice cracking. The car had pulled to a stop and he knew they were now in the parking lot. Turning his head away, he heard Yuuri sighed nervously before unbuckling the seatbelt and exiting the front door. The door on Yuri’s side opened a few moments later and a rush of cold air flooded into the car. Yuri didn’t move, small hiccuping sobs still leaving him.

 

Yuuri gently moved to unlock Yuri’s seatbelt, careful not to harm him as he pulled the belt off.

 

“Yuri...can you walk?” he asked quietly. Yuri only trembled, managing to shake his head.

 

_If I say no, can I stay in this fucking car forever?_

 

“I’m going to carry you. Is that okay?” Yuuri asked.

 

_No. Yes. I don’t know._

 

Nodding, Yuri allowed himself to be scooped up and carried. He felt the vibrations of the car door slam. He was being carried with ease, knowing that Yuuri must be worried about how light he was. They entered the building and moved up the stairs until reaching the apartment door. Yuri buried his face into the older skater’s shoulder, not wanting to face anyone else. Having Yuuri see him like this was bad enough.

 

A door opened and a familiar smell hit him. Warm, comforting. Their apartment really did feel like home and Yuri felt himself relax a little in the arms that were holding him. He heard nails scraping across the floor and whimpering.

 

_Makkachin._

 

He curled closer to Yuuri’s chest, not wanting to look and have to face anyone else.

 

“Yuuri! Yurio!” Victor’s relieved voice came, “Oh my god, is he okay?”

 

_No, no don’t look at me._

 

“I’m going to put you down on the couch, okay Yurio?” Yuuri asked softly. Yuri didn’t respond. He felt himself being lowered onto the comfortable couch and a warm blanket being pulled over him. There was a _thump_ as Makkachin jumped up and curled next to him. He instinctively reached out and curled a gentle hand in her fur.

 

“Good girl Makka,” Victor said quietly from behind the couch, “Is he awake?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Yuuri answered, “He just kept calling himself a...well, you know, and he kept crying. Victor...where I found him...it was _awful._ ”

 

Victor sighed. “Do you think something happened to him out there? He looks so skinny.”

 

“I don’t know. He kept crying and said that he couldn’t see Otabek because he was a... _shlyukha…”_ Yuuri said.

 

_Stop. Stop, stop, stop. I don’t want Victor to hear this. Then Beka will hear it._

 

“I sent Otabek on an errand. Said that we needed to get some things for Yurio,” Victor said softly, “He’ll be back any minute.”

 

There was a pause and Yuri forced himself to keep his eyes closed, not wanting to alert to the fact that he was still awake.

 

“Victor...do you think someone...hurt him?” Yuuri asked nervously.

 

Victor sighed again. “I’m not sure. He looks skinny, but he doesn’t look like he’s been in a fight. You don’t think he would…”

 

_No. No._

 

Victor was interrupted by the door opening and the sound of rustling bags.

 

“Yura!”

 

_Fuck, no. No, not you. Beka, no you can’t be here. I’m asleep, I’m asleep, I’m asleep…_

 

“Otabek, he’s asleep,” Yuuri whispered, “I know you want to see him but I don’t think we should wake him.”

 

Yuri heard some mumbled whispers before feeling someone kneel down next to him and take his hand.

 

_Oh, Beka._

  
“It’s okay, Yura,” Otabek said, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”


	9. Eyes of a Broken Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter of the day...I hope these were worth the wait!
> 
> Please check fic tags for trigger warnings.

When Yuri awoke, it took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened. Cracking an eye open, he saw Otabek’s sleeping form in the chair opposite him. Makkachin was still curled next to him on the couch and Victor and Yuuri were visible through their open bedroom door, where they had fallen asleep together on top of the covers.

 

Sitting up carefully as he tried not to wince at the pain in his lower back, he checked the time. It was six in the morning, early enough that he could leave without making a scene. He noted that someone had removed his shoes and the wad of rubles he had gotten from the man in the car was set carefully on the coffee table. Swallowing hard, he reached out and shoved the money in the pocket of his jeans, and moved to put on his shoes as quietly as he could.

 

_Am I seriously about to run again? Look where it got you last time. Come on, Yurio._

 

Shaking his head he replaced the money on the table and left his shoes on the floor. He was too tired to run. To weak. Falling back on the couch, he buried his face in Makkachin’s fur and drifted back to sleep.

 

_At least I can get some rest for a few more hours._

 

When he woke up the second time, it was much brighter. He smelled bacon frying and heard the rustling sounds of someone in the kitchen. Otabek was no longer sitting in the chair and Makkachin was gone off the couch. He heard whispers from the dining room and he quickly shut his eyes, feigning sleep.

 

_The longer I can stay asleep, the longer I can go without telling them the truth._

 

“He’s been asleep for a long time. Do you think we should wake him?” Yuuri was asking. Yuri heard the sound of a plate being set on the table and silverware being moved.

 

“He needs to rest,” Victor replied, “He looks awful. When he wakes up, we can talk to him.”

 

“Do you think he’s okay?” Otabek asked softly. It squeezed at Yuri’s heart to hear his boyfriend sounding so vulnerable and scared. Feeling guilty, he decided the time for faking sleep was over. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed at his eyes, not brave enough to turn around and face them.

 

“Yurio! You’re awake! Do you want some breakfast?” Victor asked cheerfully. As if on cue, Yuri’s stomach grumbled with hunger. Nodding, he stood on wobbly legs, grimacing a little from pain, and sat down in an empty chair, avoiding eye contact with everyone. He figured that Otabek was probably feeling a little hurt that Yuri hadn’t acknowledged him yet, but he just couldn’t face looking his boyfriend in the eye.

 

_I cheated on and betrayed you. Twice. Once...I didn’t want it, but the second time...last night, it was my decision. I had to. I was so hungry...oh, fucking christ I am so sorry, Beka._

 

Victor put a plate of food large enough to feed three people down in front of him and Yuri forgot his dark thoughts. He picked up his fork and began wolfing down the bacon and eggs, table manners forgotten and ignorant of the stares the other three were giving him. He devoured the breakfast in under five minutes.

 

Still avoiding eye contact, he chugged the glass of orange juice that had been placed in front of him and even swallowed a vitamin that was near his plate. The food gave him energy and he began to see the room more clearly, feeling his guilt a little more painfully. The reality of the last twenty four hours began eating away at him and he knew that soon, it would burst out of him whether he liked it or not.

 

“So...Yurio…” Victor said, breaking the silence, “Are you okay?”

 

_Fucking hell, Victor. I can’t talk about this to all of you! Jesus._

 

Yuri nodded, wanting to deflect away from the question. He could feel Otabek staring at him but he couldn’t look up to meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

 

_Please don’t look at me. I can’t handle it._

 

“You had me worried last night,” Yuuri chimed in, “When I found you. You scared me. Can you please talk to us?”

 

_No. No, I can’t._

 

“Please Yura,” Otabek said and _shit he sounds so broken._

 

_Fuck._

_I can’t...I can’t talk in front of Beka. I don’t want him to hear! I can’t tell him any of this!_

 

Yuri just looked down, hoping his face wasn’t betraying any of his feelings. He felt a warm weight on his lap and he saw Makkachin had rested her head on his lap. This gave him a strange sort of comfort as he began to pet her gently. Running his fingers through her fur soothed him.

 

“That word you said last night,” Yuuri went on.

 

_Fuck. No._

 

“Victor told me what it means. We’re trying to understand. We just want to help you.”

 

With each word being spoken to him, Yuri felt tension growing inside of him. The weight of the terrible truths of his life were bearing down on him, screaming to be told.

 

_God should I just...should I just tell them?_

_They can’t think any less of me than they already do, right?_

 

“This bruise,” he finally said, rubbing at his eye, “You asked about it.”

 

There was a moment of relieved silence as Yuri spoke his first words in nearly a full day. He looked up now, gut clenching as he saw all their worried faces, so close to his around the table.

 

“Yes, we did,” Victor confirmed, “You seemed upset when we asked.”

 

_No shit._

_Okay, you know what?_

_Fuck it._

_Just fuck all of this._

_I’m just going to say it._

 

“I wasn’t mugged, I lied. My mom’s drug dealer punched me in the face when I said I wouldn’t be one of his whores,” Yuri stated in a flat voice, eyes icing over.

 

There was another silence, a _loud_ silence, in the kitchen. Yuri’s stomach swirled with guilt, the others looking shocked at the admission.

 

 _“What?”_ Yuuri whispered in stunned disbelief, holding Victor’s hand tightly on the table.

 

Yuri could sense that _cold_ and _hard_ and _grey_ voice was coming back to him now. The emotionless voice. Robot. The pale, icy voice. The voice of the boy that Pavel wanted to work the streets. The voice of a broken soldier.

 

“Pavel, the dealer,” Yuri continued, voice cold and hard, “Victor, the day I texted you. He had me.”

 

Victor looked furious and sad all at once and Yuri found that he didn’t care. The words were pouring out of him now. Everything was pouring out of him. The truth was on his tongue and he couldn’t stop it from falling from his mouth.

 

“When I said I wouldn’t do it, he hit me. Then he said he’d make me do it.”

 

Otabek had unshed tears in his eyes and both Victor and Yuuri looked sick, like they didn’t want to hear more. Yuri couldn’t stop it now, the waterfall of words was out of his control.

 

Raising his head up, his dull, emotionless eyes gave away more than his words, he was sure.

 

“So he had his men do anything they wanted to me. I fought back, they did worse. When they were done, I walked to the rink. That’s when you found me and I passed out,” he admitted, voice still cold.

 

Otabek had silent tears rolling down his face now and Yuri felt a twinge of guilt. The wall he had built around the memory of what Pavel’s men had done to him had almost crumbled completely, and he found that now he _had_ to say it. He had to tell someone what happened. Before one of the other three could speak, Yuri continued.

 

“They pushed me down and said I was too good to work the streets. They had to ruin me first. They crushed my phone and took my shoes so I couldn’t run. Then they each took a turn with me. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry.”

 

Yuri kept talking, the words rushing from him. He was dimly aware that the other three were looking at him in shock and horror, but he couldn’t make himself stop. Otabek had his face buried in his hands and Victor looked like he wanted to break something. Yuuri was still holding Victor’s hand looking horrified. None of them seemed to know what to say.

 

“I was a virgin until then,” he said, a small waver in his voice betraying some of his emotion, “All I had ever done was kiss. But now…”

 

He looked down as he trailed off, still petting Makkachin on the head. She seemed to sense his distress and licked his hand gently.

  

“They only let me go because Pavel said there wasn’t anything else they could do to me. So I left. When you asked me about it, I guess I got defensive. I ran, but I was alone and I had no money and I was so hungry…”

 

Yuri’s eyes darted over to the wadded stack of rubles still on the coffee table. He figured now was the time to confess. He may as well.

 

“I almost ran away again this morning,” he admitted, “I didn’t want to tell you where I got the money.”

 

A long moment silence passed before Victor spoke.

 

“How...how did you get it?” he asked, looking like he didn’t really want to know.

 

Yuri stared at him, expressionless. “I turned a trick. I hadn’t eaten in three days and I was starving. I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

Otabek stood up, cursing quietly. Victor rubbed his face with his hands, looking more upset than Yuri had even seen. Yuuri was looking down at the floor, wringing his hands together, clearly upset.

 

“Yurio...my god,” Victor mumbled into his hands, “How...how could we have failed you this badly?”

 

_What? Seriously, what the fuck._

_This isn’t about you. Shut up._

 

“This wasn’t about _you,”_ Yuri said harshly, “You know that my mom sold our rent money for drugs months ago. We’re all homeless and I’ve been trying to earn enough to get us an apartment. Why do you think Yakov asked you to let me stay here? He knew the whole time.”

 

_Fuck you, Nikiforov. Just...fuck you! Why does everything have to be about you? Let something be about me! Let me get this out! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!_

 

Yuri stood, his face beginning to twist in anger, banging his fists on the table. His body burned with pain, but he was so angry he pushed through it. Makkachin yelped in surprise at the noise, scurrying to another room. Otabek stared at Yuri like he was a stranger.

 

“I’ve been paying my family’s bills since I was thirteen,” Yuri said, voice increasing in volume, “Why do you think I wanted to win gold so badly? I sold my medal to a dealer for medication for my mother. The money I earned from winning gold should have saved us from getting evicted. But then Pavel got my mother addicted to drugs because I wouldn’t work for him and she stole our rent money to pay for more! We lost the house. I...I didn’t know what to do!”

 

His voice cracked now, trying desperately to explain. Trying desperately to get them to _see_ , to _understand._

 

“What was I supposed to do?” he cried, “I had to take care of them! Mama’s still out on the streets, my grandfather is living in a shitty guest room in a freezing house and I _can’t help them_.”

 

He buried his face in his hands, emotions now seeping out of the cracks. “I didn’t know what to do. I...I...Beka, I’m so _sorry!”_

 

His whole body was shaking, the emotional exhaustion from finally admitting the entire truth out loud coming over him in full force. No one was speaking as he stood, face still buried in his hands. Eventually, he felt a warm pair of arms encircle him and hold him tightly.

 

“Yura.”

 

_Beka._

 

“Yura, I…” Otabek mumbled in his ear, “I _love you._ ”

 

_What?_

_That’s...that’s what he’s saying to all this?_

 

Unsure of how to respond, Yuri let his boyfriend hold him while Victor spoke quietly with Yuuri in the background.

 

Yuri felt Otabek pull away from him slightly and he looked up to meet his eyes. His heart clenched as he saw the pain in his boyfriend’s eyes.

 

“I don’t know how we’re going to fix this,” Otabek said softly, voice wavering, “But I love you. And I’m staying. We’re...we’re going to get you through this, Yura. I promise.”

 

“You’re going to stay with us,” Victor said firmly, “Both of you. And I texted Yakov. He is picking up your grandfather and taking him to live with him. As soon as we find your mother, Yuuri and I will do whatever we can to help her get the help she needs.”

 

“We’re going to take care of you,” Yuuri added, “You don’t have to be responsible for everything now. We’ll help you.”

 

Yuri felt overwhelmed, their words seeming too good to be true.

 

_This is everything I have ever wanted to hear. Why can’t I believe it?_

 

He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Words seemed to escape him. Now that the truth had all been told, what else did he have to say? Fear still clenched at his gut, fear for his mother, fear for his relationship, fear for the consequences of the sex he had, fear of Pavel, fear of dropping out of his skating season. Fear of the truth getting out.

 

_Everything is crashing down around me. I need an anchor, I need a net. They’re offering me one, just take it. Come on, you idiot, take it!_

 

He raised his head, locking eyes with Otabek. He knew that supportive people like the ones he had around him were rare, something that were not easy to replace. He knew he should accept their help.

 

“I might have an STD,” he blurted out, face turning red.

 

_Shit, why the fuck did I say that?_

_Why do I feel like I need to...test them? I’ve already told them the worst things._

_God, it’s like I’m trying to sabotage my own life._

 

Otabek’s face hardened, but he nodded. “We can get you checked out tomorrow when the offices are open. I said we’d help you heal, Yura, and I meant it. Physically and mentally.”

 

Yuri nodded, unable to voice his thanks.

 

_I know you mean well._

_But will you stick around for this?_

_Everyone knows I’m going to have a fucking breakdown._

_“I said we’d help you heal.”_

  
_If there’s even anything worth healing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. I have been DYING to write this scene, you guys don't even know!
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I hope this chapter eased some of your pain. <3 <3


	10. Music Box Ballet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing comments and kudos. I am so pleased that so many people are liking this story! A couple people have commented asking if this is the end...oh no, my lovelies, we’re only halfway through!

“This is messed up,” Yuri admitted. He and Otabek were sitting in the waiting room of a clinic to receive tests results. He wanted to make sure he was clean after everything that had happened.

 

“Messed up? This is _completely_ fucked up,” Otabek seethed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I want to kill all of those guys.”

 

Sighing, Yuri gripped the clipboard where he was finishing filling out some information. It had been a few days since he had gotten tested and he just wanted to know. The waiting was killing him. Living with Yuuri and Victor had been strange, and having Otabek there felt like a dream. Everyone seemed unsure of how to treat him and he wasn’t speaking about anything that had happened. After his outburst in the kitchen, he had refused to go into more detail about anything.

 

He did allow Otabek to come with him to the clinic because he knew that his boyfriend wanted to make sure he wasn’t sick. Rationally, he knew that any of the men that had been with him could, and probably did, have some kind of STD and he was just hoping that he hadn’t caught anything.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky?” the nurse called. Yuri felt his stomach drop and Otabek squeezed his hand tightly in support. Standing, they both walked over to the desk. After some basic questions and paperwork were taken care of, he was called in to see the doctor. Otabek stayed in the waiting room, squeezing his shoulder for support.

 

Sitting down, the doctor asked him the same questions the nurse had asked before and Yuri felt himself getting more and more impatient. He just needed to _know._ When the doctor finally typed his final information, he handed Yuri a sheet. Tearing over it with his eyes, Yuri felt the tension in his heart release bit by bit.

 

_Negative...negative...negative...negative…_

 

All the results for the STD tests were negative. Sighing in relief, Yuri looked up at his doctor who was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

 

“Yuri, your test results were negative. However, please know that some of these we cannot test for until after three months, so we will need to see you again. I'm sure that you were told of this before. On another note, I am concerned with your physical condition. I understand you are an athlete?”

 

Yuri nodded, not wanting to look the doctor in the eye.

 

_‘Concerned with my physical condition.’ Asshole probably thinks that I’m overworking my body or not eating on purpose._

 

“I see. You are not getting enough nutrition. You are five pounds underweight and for someone of your physical type, that is quite a bit. I’ve included a page of what you should be eating each day and how much. And until you regain some weight, you will need to cut back on training. Attempting to skate in your current condition could lead to a serious injury.”

 

He nodded, not really taking in all of the doctor’s words. Eventually, he was allowed to leave and he thanked the doctor, heading out into the lobby where a very nervous Otabek was pacing. Seeing Yuri, he rushed over, taking his hands into his own.

 

“Well?” he asked, eyes bright.

 

Yuri looked up, unable to crack a smile. “Negative. Everything.”

 

Otabek sighed in relief, pulling Yuri into a tight hug. “Thank god. Yura, I’m so glad.”

 

Together they exited the clinic and headed back to the apartment. During the ride Otabek talked softly about what they could do for the rest of the day. Yuri rest his head on Otabek’s shoulder, not talking and letting the rhythm of the train and the lull of Otabek’s voice to calm him.

 

_This is nice. I wish...I wish I could be on this train with Otabek forever._

 

Eventually they reached their stop and they walked hand-in-hand back to the apartment. Yuri realized that Otabek had stopped talking and he hoped that he hadn’t hurt his boyfriend’s feelings. He held on to Otabek’s hand a little more tightly as they headed up the stairs into the apartment building and opened the door.

 

Victor and Yuuri were at the rink practicing and Yuri felt a twinge of guilt when he realized that they should be there, too. He should be on that ice, practicing for his next medal. But, rationally he knew that the season was over for him. Not only had he missed a competition, he had missed practice for nearly a month. There would be no way he could compete in his current condition. As much as it killed him, he knew he’d have to take off the rest of the competitive season. He could still train, but he couldn’t compete until next year.

 

_It fucking sucks. But they’re right...if I tried to compete right now, I would probably hurt myself so badly that I couldn’t compete in the future._

 

“Yura, want to watch a movie?” Otabek asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. Yuri nodded and they settled themselves on the couch, scrolling through the movies on Netflix. Eventually, they found a kid’s movie that seemed brainless and nice, and Yuri snuggled into Otabek’s side, curling his fingers into his boyfriend’s shirt. Otabek hummed happily, threading a hand through Yuri’s hair. The sensation was pleasing and Yuri found himself getting sleepy.

 

_Mm. This is nice. Today was nice. I mean, other than the doctor. It’s nice not thinking about damn survival every minute. It’s nice to be warm, to be full, to not be in charge of anything._

 

Focusing on his boyfriend’s hands, Yuri was lulled into a peaceful kind of daydreaming state, ignoring the movie completely. He loved the way Otabek’s hands gently petted through his long hair and he didn’t want it to stop, ever. Eyes closed, colors swam across his vision, peaceful colors and shapes through the black, colors of warmth and peace. He knew he was _safe_ here, and he hadn’t been safe in so long.

 

_I wonder how long this is going to last._

 

* * *

 

When Yuri awoke, someone had draped a blanket over him and he was laying across the couch, the movie long since over. Something warm and heavy was pressed against his side and he smiled lazily when he realized that it was Makkachin.

 

_This dog loves me. I hope it’s making Victor jealous._

 

He heard rustling in the kitchen and he realized that Yuuri and Victor must be back from the rink. Sitting up and stretching, he was surprised to see that the apartment was empty except for Yuuri, who was quietly making tea.

 

“Oh, Yurio!” he exclaimed, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

 

Yuri shook his head. “No, just stretching. Where’s Beka and Victor?”

 

Yuuri came over, handing him a mug of hot tea, which Yuri gratefully accepted. “They’re both at the rink. Victor wanted to do some more practice and Otabek needed to get some in, too. They’re both performing at the meet in Italy in a few weeks.”

 

_Right. The one that I was supposed to skate at._

 

“What about you?” Yuri asked, “Did you pull the short straw for babysitting duty?”

 

Yuri knew that the three of them had some kind of agreement that he shouldn’t be left alone. It was painfully obvious in the way that they structured their days. Yuuri’s red face at the question was further proof.

 

“N-no!” Yuuri stammered, “I mean, I was done, so I thought I’d give you some company. Yuri...you know we’re all just really worried about you, right?”

 

Yuri shrugged, not wanting to answer. Yuuri walked over, sitting next to him on the couch and running a gentle hand through Makkachin’s fur, her stubby tail thumping happily to have the attention of both of them.

 

“I know we haven’t been pushing, and I want to respect your boundaries,” Yuuri went on, “But...please know if you want to talk, I’m here. We’re all here.”

 

_Fuck, Katsudon. You’re making me feel guilty. Goddamn._

 

Yuri nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He looked up and his face reddened under the open honestly of Yuuri’s gaze. Knowing that Yuuri was probably the one person who could somewhat understand his feelings, at least his emotions, he figured it couldn’t hurt to let it out a little. But something had been eating at him for weeks and he needed to say it first.

 

“I...Yuuri…” he started, the older skater looking surprised.

 

_Oh...I called him by his name. I never do that._

 

“I am so sorry,” he continued, “For...almost stealing your meds. That was...so, so shitty of me and I feel so guilty…”

 

His stomach twisted in knots as he tried to avoid looking at Yuuri’s face. He needed to apologize, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to do it. Embarrassment flooded his stomach as he realized he was beginning to get a little choked up. His face burned more as he felt a warm hand encase his own.

 

_Fuck, he’s holding my hand._

 

“Yuri,” he said quietly, “I know. I know how awful you feel, and please listen to me. It’s okay. You were going through so much and I’m not mad at you.”

 

_Goddamn it Katsudon, why can’t you just get pissed off like a normal person? Why do you have to be so fucking sincere?_

 

“I...just needed to say it out loud,” Yuri mumbled, hyperconscious of the hand holding on to his own. Yuuri nodded, a comfortable silence filling the room.

 

After a moment, Yuuri sat up. “Oh! I completely forgot!”

 

Yuri looked up, watching as Yuuri stood up off the couch and walked over to the door. A small black backpack was sitting there and Yuri’s stomach clenched as he recognized it.

 

_That’s mine...but I haven’t seen that since the day we got evicted. I assumed it got stolen._

 

“Yakov brought this,” Yuuri said, bringing it over and handing it to Yuri, “Your grandfather has been hanging on to this. He said it has some of your things in it from home.”

 

Yuri’s eyes widened as he moved to unzip the bag. He was moved to see that instead of essentials, his grandfather had filled it with important things. There was a small stuffed cat that Yuri had since he was a baby, some framed photos from the house, a small dreamcatcher that his mother had made. There were some more items in the bag, but he feared if he looked any further that he would cry.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered to Yuri, clutching the bag to his chest. A warm hand clamped on to his shoulder before leaving Yuri alone, presumably to continue going through the bag. After a moment, Yuri stood to go into the bathroom, wanting some privacy. He walked in, closing the door part way, not bothering to turn on the lights and leaning against the wall.

 

He slid down to the floor and pulled item after item out of the backpack; a wooden soldier from his old set, a beat up ribbon from his first skating competition, a picture of the whole family. Sure enough, he felt tears begin to slide down his face as he touched each precious item.

 

_Grandpa...thank you._

 

Yuri reached his hand in again, feeling that there was one more item left in the bag. He gasped in surprise as his hands grasped onto a small shape in his bag, shocked to see that it was a small toy train, painted gold and red, one of the wheels missing. It was his favorite thing in the world from his childhood, a music box train that his father had given to him years ago.

 

Yuri held the toy train delicately in his hands, turning the crank to hear the faint metallic sound of the music box beginning to turn. The notes clinked out slowly at first, rusty from years of wear. It was lower in pitch than he remembered, slower too, but the music still brought out emotions from his childhood that he had not experienced in years. A warmth filled his chest as he recalled a dim image of his father giving him the train, his mother smiling over at them both. Those were the good times, the times before drugs and alcohol took his parents away from him. The time when he was innocent, a child.

 

He tasted bitterness on his tongue as he felt his stomach roll. Bitterness for the path his life had taken. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he was supposed to win gold after gold, just like Victor, and his family was supposed to live in peace. Instead, his mother was gone, his father was probably dead, and his grandpa was sick and being shuttled around from house to house. Yuri realized numbly that he hadn’t seen his grandfather in close to a month.

 

Hugging the train to his chest, he felt a tear trickle down his face. This train had been missing for years and he assumed that it had been destroyed or accidentally thrown away. He wasn’t sure where the train had come from or how his grandfather had gotten into his things, but he clung to it as if it was the dearest thing in the world.

 

_No matter what I will not let this go. This is my last good memory of childhood and I want to keep it._

 

He cranked the train as much as it would go, listening to the music begin, much faster this time. Holding it to his chest again, he closed his eyes and rocked to the music, the way his mother would rock him to sleep. Hair falling into his eyes and the lights still off in the room, he thought the he must look like something out of a horror movie, rocking back and forth to an old and out of tune music box.

 

Laughing a little, he cranked the train again, willing the song to start over. He never wanted it to stop, he just wanted to hear the melody as much as he could. He kept cranking it over and over, not noticing that someone was standing in the doorframe watching him.

 

The figure shifted, moving to come kneel down in front of him. “Um...Yurio?”

 

Yuri’s head shot up, realizing that it was Yuuri in front of him, and his face begin to burn in embarrassment.

 

“What are you doing in here?” Yuuri asked in a calm voice.

 

_He probably thinks I’m losing it. Maybe I am._

 

“I found my train,” Yuri responded honestly, “I wanted to listen to it.”

 

Yuuri shifted, sitting down in front of him so they were eye-to-eye on the floor. “Your train? What’s that?”

 

Yuri turned the train delicately in his fingers, the music still slowly coming out of it. “My papa gave it to me years ago. It...it was my favorite thing in the world. I found it in my bag and I had to hear it.”

 

Yuuri nodded, looking him over.

 

_Do I really look that bad? Jesus, he’s staring at me like I’m wearing a straightjacket or something._

 

“Can I hear it? I mean, can you wind it up for me? I’d like to hear the song, it’s pretty,” Yuuri asked somewhat nervously.

 

Yuri was surprised by the request, but he rewound the train, the music beginning again. They listened in silence for a few moments, the delicate notes filling the empty space of the room.

 

“Swan Lake,” Yuuri breathed after a moment, “I danced to this once.”

 

_Yeah, that’s right. It was mama’s favorite ballet. She took me to see it over and over. I can’t believe I forgot about that._

 

“Tchaikovsky,” Yuri whispered, “Mama’s favorite.”

 

Yuuri’s gaze was piercing him but he looked down, running his fingers over the train. He was wishing, burning with desire, forcing all of his energy into hoping, _praying_ , that he could go back, go back to the nights where they would go to the ballet, before they had lost everything, before his parents were gone.

 

They sat in silence together for a long time, until the train had cranked out it’s final note. The clicking sound of the music box stopping broke the spell, and Yuri suddenly felt embarrassed for his confessions to Yuuri and his childish wishes. Unable to put the train down, he held it gently, avoiding eye contact.

 

“Hey, Yuri, why don’t we get you to bed? It’s pretty late now,” Yuuri said, putting a gentle hand on his arm. Yuri nodded, allowing himself to be pulled up. He still kept one hand around his train, childlike and small, as they walked through the hallway. Heat crept up into his face as he realized that Yuuri was holding his hand and dragging him along like a kid.

 

_Whatever. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I just want to go to bed._

_I just want my parents. I want everything to be like it was._

 

Yuuri helped him into his room, gently laying him down on the bed and pulling the comforter over him. There was a sound in the room, a strange sound that Yuri couldn’t place at first. After a few moments of honing in on it, he realized that it was Yuuri humming the theme from his music box.

 

Tears burned in his eyes as he thought of his mother. She used to do the same, tucking him in, humming. He clutched at his train, turning it one final time before placing it on the bedside table. Yuuri was still there, making sure that Yuri was comfortable and turning off the lights.

  
The melody from the music box lulled him into sleep, as it had done so many times before. He sent a silent _thanks_ to Yuuri for helping him before he allowed himself to be pulled under into his dreams.


	11. Waltz, Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thanks for the great comments on the last chapter. I'm trying really hard to respond to all of them, but sometimes it takes me a while to do that. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Yuri awoke to the smell of coffee and the murmuring of talking in the kitchen. His door was partially open and he found that he could hear the conversation of the others drifting through to his room.

 

“You should have seen him, Victor, he looked so _lost_ ,” Yuuri said, sounding upset, “He was listening to the music and he just looked so sad.”

 

There was a sound of someone setting a mug down on a table, silverware being set. Yuri strained his ears to hear more. He felt a little guilty eavesdropping, but he was also dying to know what they were saying when he was out of earshot.

 

“I remember him telling me about that train years ago,” Victor said quietly, “He was just a kid and he said he lost it. He was devastated.”

 

_What? I don’t remember talking to him about that._

 

There was no talking for a while as the sound of eating could be heard. Yuri kept his breathing steady and even, not moving around. He didn’t want to alert anyone that he was awake in case they would say more about him. He heard the front door open and close and the sound of someone taking off their shoes.

 

_It must be Beka._

 

“How is he?” he heard his boyfriend ask.

 

“Sleeping,” Victor answered. There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and it sounded to Yuri like all three were now sitting around the kitchen table.

 

“Otabek, are you okay?” Yuuri asked, sounding concerned.

 

There was a pause. “Not really. I’ll...be okay though.”

 

Yuri’s heart clenched at how small and sad Otabek’s voice sounded.

 

_Fuck. I’m so sorry._

 

“I know it’s hard. He’ll open up to you. Just give it time,” Yuuri said.

 

Not wanting to hear anymore, Yuri closed his eyes and forced himself to go back to sleep.

 

_I don’t want their pity._

 

* * *

 

When he awoke, he was happy to see that it was still light out. Stretching, he got out of bed and left his room, surprised to see that the apartment was empty. Looking around he saw a note on the kitchen table.

 

**_Yurio!_ **

**_We didn’t want to wake you, but we had to get some practice time in. We’ll be back in a few hours. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call us. Relax a little, enjoy yourself! See you tonight._ **

**_xoxo Victor & Yuuri (And Otabek, too)_ **

 

Rolling his eyes at the letter, Yuri sighed. He was pleased that they trusted him enough now to leave him alone, even if it was only for a few hours. He had a few hours to himself and he planned to enjoy them. He felt a little jealous of the others at the rink, he missed skating with every fiber of his being. After eating a small snack and drinking a bottle of water, he mulled over what to do with his time.

 

_I can’t skate right now, but maybe I can dance._

 

Yuri stood, enjoying the first solitude that he had in weeks. He was very grateful to everyone for how they were taking care of him, but at the same time it was nice to be alone every now and then. Yuri eyed the living room as a potential spot for his practice. Gently moving the couch and coffee table to one side of the room, he now had an open enough space to run through some of his old ballet sequences.

 

Hooking up his phone to the speaker system, he pressed “play” on his ballet playlist, something he hadn’t used since last season. There were lots of classical pieces on it, lots of Chopin piano etudes, but he had also added a few non-traditional songs, something to push himself when he was practicing alone.

 

The soft sound of piano trills filled the room and Yuri sighed, relaxing the tension in his shoulders. Moving slowly, he began with simple plies and releves, enjoying the simple rhythm of the movements. Going through the positions, he moved into an arabesque, beginning a ballet routine that he had begun on his own the season before.

 

The routine moved into a brisé and Yuri relished the feeling of leaping into the air. After a while, he ran out of rehearsed moves and he began to improvise. Completely letting go of the pain and tension he had been carrying or weeks, he let himself fall into the music. He hadn’t noticed that someone had opened the door and was watching him from the hall.

 

He moved to leap and as he landed, he started in shock as he saw someone out of the corner of his eye. Otabek was standing in the hallway, looking at him with a slightly dazed expression, like his brain was short circuiting.

 

_He must have come home early to check on me._

 

“Um, I was just practicing,” Yuri stuttered, “I, uh, took ballet training last season.”

 

Otabek nodded, swallowing slowly, eyes still wide. “Yeah...it, um...that was really something.”

 

“R-Really?” Yuri asked, scratching the back of his head, face burning, “I mean, it was just improv, I’m not that good.”

 

Otabek walked forward, eyes still wide. “Yura...that was _stunning._ ”

 

Face hot, Yuri blushed even harder.

 

_Fuck, he always makes me feel like a schoolgirl. Jesus christ._

 

“Um, thank you,” he admitted, “I...I’ve never really danced for anyone besides my teacher.”

 

Otabek was right in front of him now, staring down at him like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

 

“Yura...do you...um, would you dance with me?” Otabek rushed out, blushing as much as Yuri was. Surprised, but not displeased, Yuri wordlessly held out his arms and Otabek took him by the waist, gently waltzing him around the living room. The music was still gently playing in the background as they began to slowly dance. Yuri was blushing like mad, the closeness of Otabek overwhelming him.

 

_Ugh I can’t think straight. Fucking hell, I love him so much._

 

Otabek wasn’t a ballet dancer, but he knew how to lead a waltz. Leading them around the room, he spun Yuri into a gentle dip before kissing him passionately.

 

_Oh my god, I’m going to pass out. Holy fucking hell._

 

Yuri responded by curling his fingers in Otabek’s hair, gently parting his lips. They kissed for a long time, eventually crashing onto the couch. They both laughed as they got tangled up in each other, kissing lazily. Yuri ran his hands down Otabek’s shirt, pulling his boyfriend on top of him. Otabek moaned, kissing Yuri’s neck.

 

All was going fine, wonderful even, until Yuri felt Otabek’s hands move down towards the top of his jeans.

 

_“We’re going to have a lot of fun with you, kitten.”_

 

Yuri jumped, pushing Otabek off of him with all the force he could muster. He began to shake, closing his eyes as memories washed over him.

 

_“How much?”_

_“I’ve never done something like this before.”_

 

“Yura?” Otabek’s worried voice cut through and he realized that he was beginning to have a panic attack.

 

“I can’t breathe,” he gasped, clutching his chest, “Beka, I can’t breathe, _I can’t breathe._ ”

 

Rationally, Yuri realized he was having a panic attack, but he wasn’t sure how to communicate that to Otabek. He felt a pair of hands on his back and suddenly the panic was overwhelming, his vision dimming almost to black.

 

“Don’t touch me,” he gasped, “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me.”

 

“Yura! Yura, what’s wrong?” Otabek asked sounding terrified. Yuri had lost the ability to voice his thoughts, but he could hear Otabek panicking to someone on the phone.

 

“Victor! Victor, I need help, please, he can’t breathe and he’s clutching his chest, what should I do? What? A...panic attack? Okay, what do I do? Okay, I can. Just...please stay on the phone.”

 

_Fuck, I can’t breathe, I can’t see. Help me, someone, anyone please help me. I’m dying, I’m dying, oh god I feel like I’m dying._

 

“Yura,” Otabek said firmly, voice a little shaky, “Listen to me. You’re having a panic attack.”

 

_No shit. Okay._

 

“Alright, I need you to breathe in...that’s right, hold it...a little longer...okay, exhale. Good, good Yura. Keep going.”

 

Yuri did his best to follow what his boyfriend was telling him, inhaling and exhaling in time with his requests. Eventually, he felt his panic begin to subside and the room came a little more into focus. He began to see the blurry outline of Otabek’s face and he also started to hear Victor’s voice over the phone. He realized that he had moved to the floor at some point and was now leaning against the wall.

 

 _“We’re_ _on our way,”_ Victor was saying, _“We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”_

 

“Yura?” Otabek croaked, voice sounding hoarse, “Are you...alright?”

 

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I cannot believe that just happened! We were having such a nice moment. How did this happen?_

 

Embarrassed and still feeling shaky, Yuri closed his eyes and allowed his head to rest on the wall. He wanted nothing more than to disappear, to go back to dancing alone, in a quiet space where no one could see him.

 

Where no one could _hurt_ him.

 

There was a soft whimpering sound and he jumped a little as he felt Makkachin lick his hand. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see her nuzzling her soft nose into his side. He reached his hands up and curled them into her fur, soothing him.

 

“Makka,” he exhaled, “Good girl.”

 

He pet her for a few moments before summoning the courage to look at his boyfriend in the eye.

 

“Beka...I…” he started, but before he could continue, the apartment door flew open, Yuuri and Victor entering each wearing concerned expressions.

 

“Are you both alright?” Victor asked, setting down his keys and walking over. Yuuri followed, staying silent but keeping his eyes locked on Yuri’s hunched form.

 

Otabek nodded, speaking first. “Yeah...thanks for...helping.”

 

“Of course,” Victor assured, looking down towards Yuri, who was petting Makkachin in silence.

 

Yuuri came over next, eyeing the furniture. “What happened to the living room?”

 

“We were...dancing,” Otabek confessed, face red.

 

Victor looked amused. “Dancing?”

 

_Fuck, this is embarrassing. I don’t want to admit what we were doing when I started to panic._

 

“Yurio?” Yuuri asked, finally addressing him, “You alright?”

 

Yuri nodded, still breathing heavily, chest heaving as if he had run a marathon. Makkachin shifted, pulling herself onto his lap. The weight of her body pressing onto his actually felt comforting. Not wanting to speak, he continued to pet her, her breathing helping to calm his own.

 

“What happened?” Victor asked as he and Yuuri began to put the furniture back in its normal place.

 

Yuri’s hand stilled in Makkachin’s fur, face reddening slightly. He had no desire to admit out loud what they were doing. He spared a glance up at Otabek who looked just as embarrassed as he was.

 

“We...uh...were dancing and…” Otabek started, running a nervous hand through his hair, “And um…”

 

_Aw, hell. He looks so embarrassed. I guess the least I could do would be to help explain._

 

“We were making out,” Yuri interrupted, “And I freaked.”

 

An uncomfortable silence filled the room and Yuri groaned internally.

 

_Fuck. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. My mouth is getting too big._

 

“Uh, Yura…” Otabek said nervously, “Um, that’s….”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuri said, “I know, not their business. But I just thought someone should say it.”

 

_I’m sorry I freaked when we were kissing, Beka. All I could think of was everything I’ve done and how I’m not good enough for you._

 

_How I’m not good enough for anyone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I felt we needed a cute moment, but I also felt that to have it be complete fluff wouldn't be true to what Yuri is going through.


	12. Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read fic tags for trigger warnings!

It had been a week since Yuri had the panic attack on the couch. Everyone had fallen into a comfortable routine with their skating schedules and Yuri had even been to the rink a few times. The official story that they told the press was that Yuri was recovering from an injury and would be returning next season. Fortunately, everyone had bought it and he wasn’t receiving any flak from reporters.

 

It was one small blessing at least.

 

Yuri spent most of his time in a haze, skating when he could, sleeping the other times. He didn’t say much, stayed off social media, and did little but the essentials each day. Knowing that it was concerning Otabek, Yuri tried his best to act like his old self, but he couldn’t seem to summon enough energy.

 

Victor and Yuuri were being very kind, making sure that he ate three meals a day and taking care of himself. Yuri still hadn’t summoned the courage to face his grandfather in person, but they had spoken on the phone a few times. There was still no sign of his mother, but his grandfather was doing well staying at Yakov’s home. Yuri was just glad that he had limited responsibilities. 

 

He had trouble focusing. Oftentimes he would find himself blanking out, missing minutes at a time as his mind would drift. Usually this would end with someone calling his name or touching him to get his attention.

 

Yuri  _ hated _ that.

 

He flinched every time he was touched these days. After his panic attack with Otabek, they had been keeping their distance from each other physically. Yuri was scared that if he let himself try again, it would only make things worse. He had also begun to lash out irrationally.

 

Guilt burned in his stomach afterwards, but he couldn’t help it in the moment. The other day, he had screamed at Victor during practice just for bumping into to him on accident. He apologized, but it didn’t help calm the fury he had felt in the moment. A bitter rage for the paths his life had taken was consuming him. He felt like a volcano that was due to erupt at any time, without notice. 

 

If Yuri was being honest, it was beginning to scare him a little.

 

Behind his back, he heard his friends whisper things like “ _ PTSD _ ” and “ _ he needs to talk to someone”  _ but Yuri would always pretend he didn’t hear. He knew that Otabek and everyone else was worried, but he just couldn’t bring himself to face owning up to his actions and confronting what had happened to him.

 

One afternoon after skating all day, the four of them were heading to the car to go back to the apartment. Yuri was frustrated, as he usually was after practice, and he seemed to be hyper-alert to everything. Trying his best to keep on a neutral face, he tuned in to the conversation.

 

“But Yuuri,” Victor was whining playfully, “You  _ promised. _ ”

 

Yuuri laughed. “Victor, I definitely did  _ not _ promise. You’d kill me if I let you eat a whole tub of ice cream before competition!”

 

_ Oh. Competition? Is Italy that soon?  _

_ What day is it today? _

 

“The flight leaves on Friday. We’ve got time to work it off,” Victor pouted, “Chocolate fudge just sounds good right now.”

 

Otabek chuckled, instinctively reaching for Yuri’s hand. Yuri flinched, pulling away at the contact. It went unnoticed by Victor and Yuuri, but he saw his boyfriend’s face tighten at the rejection. 

 

_ I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. _

 

Saying nothing, Yuri climbed into the backseat of the car, pressing as close to the window as he could without looking suspicious. He knew that he should be making some effort to join the conversation, but he just couldn’t do it. The others kept talking, but Yuri could only feel guilt and anger, the two emotions that seemed to sum up his personality these days.

 

“Hey, Yurio, what do you think?” Victor asked.

 

_ Shit. What? What are they talking about? _

 

“What?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the window. There was an awkward pause, and Yuri figured they thought he was paying attention.

 

“Um, about Italy? The airport?” Victor asked, looking concerned. 

 

_ I don’t give a shit. _

 

Yuri shrugged. “Whatever.”

 

Otabek was frowning and Victor and Yuuri were silent in the front seats.

 

_ What the fuck? What did I miss? Shit. I have to start paying more attention. _

 

“Well, it’s important to know your opinion,” Yuuri said gently, “I mean, Otabek and Victor are flying on Friday, and we want to know if you want to come with them, or with me on Saturday.”

 

_ Oh. _

_ It doesn’t matter to me. Whatever works. _

 

“I don’t care,” he mumbled.

 

_ Ah, fuck. That sounded douchey. Oh well. _

 

He figured they must have thought it a lost cause, because the subject was quickly changed to discussing something in the news. Yuri allowed himself to space out, focusing only on the vibrations of the glass window. He ignored everyone for the rest of the car ride, feeling relieved when they pulled into the parking lot.

 

The conversation continued as they headed across the lot, Yuri vaguely aware of the fact that Otabek was no longer trying to hold his hand.

 

_ Ah well. I was being a dick, I don’t blame him. _

 

“Hey, boys?” Victor asked, “Yuuri and I are going to go grab dinner. You let yourselves in, okay?”

 

Otabek responded and Yuri had the sense to nod before the two older skaters waved and walked off towards the small shop on the end of the road. Otabek and Yuri walked silently into the apartment together, both greeting a happy Makkachin before dropping their skating equipment. Otabek went to the kitchen while Yuri eyed the couch.

 

_ I just want to sleep. _

 

Knowing he probably owed Otabek some kind of explanation for why he was acting this way, Yuri tried to think of something to say. Unfortunately, his mind was so wired, so out of control that he had no way of processing how to explain his emotions to his boyfriend.

 

_ I’m an enigma wrapped in a fucking disaster. _

 

He heard Otabek making some kind of snack and he used the private moment to allow his mind to drift.

 

_ Worthless. _

_ Failure.  _

_ Thief. _

_ Liar. _

_ Runaway. _

_ Homeless. _

_ Whore. _

 

The words bounced around his brain, words that ran through his mind on repeat whenever there was a quiet moment. When he was alone, ballet and his music box would help to calm him, but he still hadn’t figured out what to do in the presence of others. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice that Otabek had sat down next to him and was looking at him expectantly.

 

“Hey, Yura?” he asked quietly. 

 

Yuri looked up. “Yeah?”

 

Otabek ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Look, I...I don’t want to push you, but I want to talk about...us.”

 

_ Jesus fucking christ. You’ve got to be kidding me. _

 

Yuri said nothing, just looked at Otabek expectantly.

 

“I...I don’t know what to do,” Otabek confessed, face falling, “I feel like I’m making things worse for you.”

 

_ Holy fucking hell is he...is he breaking up with me right now? _

_ I guess I deserve it if he is. _

 

“There used to be a fire inside you. Passion. We...I...miss it,” Otabek continued softly, face sad.

 

Yuri laughed humorlessly. “Well, there’s a fucking desert inside me now.”

 

_ Great. Real charming. _

 

Moving to sit in front of him on the couch, Otabek took both of his hands, ignoring the way Yuri flinched at the contact. 

 

“Yura...I think you need to go see someone about this. A professional,” he stated.

 

_ What the fuck? _

 

“What? Are you fucking kidding me? Why the hell would I do that?” Yuri scoffed.

 

_ Is he being serious? _

 

Otabek frowned, gripping the back of the couch tightly. “Because you need  _ help _ , Yura. You...you  _ sold _ your body for money! You...you have to talk to someone!”

 

Yuri’s face burned with rage. “Fuck you,” he seethed, standing up and moving towards the bedroom door. Otabek leapt up, grabbing Yuri’s arm.

 

_ No. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you! _

 

“Yura,  _ please _ ,” he cried desperately, “I’m so scared for you. You...you’re empty and I’m terrified you’re going to leave again.”

 

Yuri narrowed his eyes, feeling the anger begin to build inside of him. He tried to pull away, but Otabek’s gentle grip was keeping him on the couch. He looked afraid to let Yuri go.

 

“Fuck. You,” Yuri spat, “ _ Let go of me. _ ”

 

It was at that moment that Victor and Yuuri walked into the apartment, both looking unsure about the scene in front of them.

 

_ I am going to explode. I can’t take this anymore. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need to go calm down! _

 

“Boys, what’s going on?” Victor asked, looking worriedly between them.

 

Yuri took the opportunity to pull his hands away, folding his arms across his chest. He was trying to look like he didn’t care, but really he appreciated the calm feeling of safety he got from covering his body with his arms.

 

“Yura,  _ please, _ ” Otabek pleaded softly. Yuri’s gut clenched as he realized his boyfriend’s eyes were shining with tears.

 

_ Fuck. I made him cry. I need to get out of here. I...I need some space. _

 

Falling into his icy hard glare, Yuri put up his shields. Keeping his face neutral, he walked over towards the window, ignoring the curious stares and sad state of his boyfriend. Looking out over the cityscape of St. Petersburg, he took a deep breath to try and steady himself.

 

_ No emotion. Don’t let them see you. Keep it fucking together for five more minutes, Plisetsky. You can do this. Fucking hell. _

 

“Yurio?” Victor asked from somewhere behind him, “What’s going on?”

 

_ No. _

_ No. _

_ I don’t have to explain this shit to anyone! _

_ Fuck. _

_ I...I just want five goddamn minutes of peace. _

_ Jesus. _

 

Yuri hugged himself more tightly, feeling cold as he got closer to the window. 

 

_ Wow I can see for miles… _

_ No, focus. Fuck, I spaced out again. _

_ “How much?” _

_... _

_ No, shit, don’t think about that right now. _

 

He rubbed at his head, something he noticed himself doing lately when he began to feel closed in. Recognizing that he was headed towards another panic attack, he took in several slow, deep breaths, hoping the others wouldn’t bother him until he was more calm.

 

_ Beka is just trying to help me. _

_ He loves me. _

_ But fuck...can’t...can’t he just...mind his own business? _

 

“Yuri?” Otabek asked this time, and Yuri realized it had probably been too long since he had last said something.

 

_ Whore. _

 

“It’s not like I wanted to whore myself out,” Yuri said, not realizing for a moment that he had spoken out loud. The words seemed to echo around the apartment in silence for a moment. He could sense the tension, but in the moment, he just didn’t  _ give a fuck. _

  
He didn’t give a fuck about anything, really. Not anymore.

 

“You all act like I am some stupid teenager who fucking went with the wrong crowd or something,” he seethed, turning around with an angry glare, “Don’t you get it, yet? I didn’t have a fucking  _ choice!” _

 

Otabek stood, tears still in his eyes. Yuuri and Victor were looking between the two of them, as if unsure of what to do or say.

 

“Yura, you  _ did! _ ” Otabek cried, “You did have a choice. You...you didn’t have to run!”

 

_ … _

 

Yuri’s mind went blank.

 

He felt nothing.

 

No words came to mind.

 

Just...flashes. Shards, like glass from a mirror. Each piece falling too fast for him to categorize, each moment touching his mind briefly before leaving. Nothing felt real.

 

_ “Mama...you promised!” _

_ “Little Yurachka, covered in blood…” _

_ “How much?” _

_ “We’re going to have so much fun with you, kitten.” _

_ “You did! You did have a choice!” _

 

Nothing.

 

Blank.

 

Empty.

 

Soulless.

 

Icy.

 

All he felt was cold. 

 

_ Is...is that what he really thinks? I chose to whore myself out to a stranger? _

_ Does he think so little of me? _

_ Am I really that worthless to him? _

 

He felt someone shaking him, but Yuri didn’t respond. He kept staring blankly, straight ahead of him.

  
_ Mama, I think I understand you a little better now. If this is how shitty you were feeling, then I forgive you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews!


	13. Phantom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of a past suicide attempt, references to self-harm

 

When Yuri was five, on his birthday his parents bought him a cake and tickets to the ballet as a surprise. They walked the streets of Moscow together and when the night came to a close, they both tucked him in with smiles and hugs.

 

When Yuri was seven, his father’s drinking got out of control and he left for good. His grandfather moved in, helping to fill some of the void left by his father. That same year, his mother slashed her wrists during a depressive episode. Yuri found her first when he slipped in the blood.

 

He screamed for hours.

 

By the age of eight, they had moved six times to worse and worse neighborhoods. Yuri learned how to say “fuck off” and how to throw a punch, just in case. His grandfather slipped and fell while fixing the roof and permanently injured his back. They got by for a while on savings and what little work his mother could do. Yuri took free skating lessons at a rink. His coach said he showed a lot of promise.

 

His mother never once came to watch.

 

At the age of thirteen, Yuri’s skating was the sole thing that paid their bills. His mother had disappeared countless times, constantly strung out on some new drug. His grandfather got worse, barely able to help with household chores due to pain.

 

When Yuri was fifteen, he won a gold medal at the Grand Prix Finals and set a world record in men’s figure skating. His grandfather watched his performance on an old tv set in their home while his mother drank herself to sleep. Yuri came home to a quiet house and shoved his medal in his sock drawer.

 

He didn’t pull it out again until he sold it for medication.

 

By the time Yuri was sixteen, they were homeless. Assaulted by a gang of sex traffickers, he slowly began to break. Desperate, he attempted to steal his friend’s medication in order to sell it for money. When confronted, he ran. Starving and out of options, he desperately sold his body in order to eat.

 

He wasn’t sure what that all made him, really.

 

Figure skater, champion, son, ice tiger, grandson. These were the words others attributed to him.

 

Yuri attributed much harsher words to himself.

 

Lying curled on the top of his bed, a beam of moonlight illuminated his pale hands. He was strangely disconnected from himself, as if his body was not really his own. He could hear noises from outside of his room, concerned quiet talking and the occasional tears.

 

He couldn’t really be bothered to care.

 

_“You didn’t have to run...you didn’t have to run...you didn’t have to run…”_

 

Otabek’s words echoed through his mind on a loop, as if being played on some cruel radio set to repeat. Numbness flooded his body and he vaguely wondered how he had gotten to the bedroom in the first place.

 

_“You did have a choice! You didn’t have to run!”_

 

Yuri curled into a small ball on the mattress, trying to warm himself. He didn’t want to go under the covers, they were too oppressive and suffocating.

 

_“How much?”_

_“I’ve never done anything like this before.”_

_“I want to eat something.”_

_“He’s a cold-eyed minx, this one.”_

 

Thoughts moved through his head like jagged glass, breaking into pieces and scattering in every direction. Finding nothing to focus on, his brain was sifting through everything. All of it, all the memories, all the trauma. Everything he had kept buried for years, coming to the surface.

 

_I’m a whore. I sold my body for food._

_I’m a thief. I stole Yuuri’s meds._

_I’m a failure. I quit the season._

_I’m a liar. No one knows the full truth._

_I’m a runaway. I’m homeless._

_Worthless._

 

It was the only conclusion his mind could come to. He was worthless, nothing. He understood now how his mother had felt when she had taken the blade to her skin. It wasn’t a feeling of sadness, it was a feeling of overwhelming nothingness. Any pain had to be better than this swelling wave of emptiness and solitude.

 

Yuri felt no pull to harm himself, but he could understand now how she felt.

 

_Mama, I forgive you. I’m sorry._

 

Vaguely, he registered that someone was pushing open his bedroom door and the talking in the hallway had stopped. The bed dipped slightly as someone sit down on the end. Yuri kept himself still, curled into a small ball as his blank eyes watched the moonlight dance on his hands.

 

_It’s pretty. Like my hands are made of ice or something._

 

“Yuri?” someone asked him. He didn’t answer.

 

_Why bother? I have nothing else to say. I’m out of words._

 

“Yuri, it’s been a few hours. Do you want something to eat?”

 

_Oh. Katsudon._

_Hours? I guess I really am out of it._

 

He had no words. He was too tired; too tired to think, too tired to talk. He knew he was in no condition to do much at the moment, but he felt a small tug of something inside of him, the part of him that loved Otabek and his friends. Forcing himself to sit up, Yuri felt his head swim with dizziness from lying down for so long. He only wanted the thoughts to stop. He wanted his mind to be calm, like when he was skating or dancing alone. Just peace. Calm. Blank.

 

Yuuri’s face came into focus, peering over at Yuri through his glasses, a worried expression lining his face.

 

“Hey, remember what I said before? I’m here if you want to talk,” he said softly, close enough to be in Yuri’s space, but far enough away on the bed that it wasn’t making him nervous.

 

Yuri looked down to the bedspread, realizing that he had been clenching his fists into the sheets. A wave of some kind of emotion passed through him, making him hot and sick to his stomach, but the feeling left before he could identify it.

 

“I don’t want to talk,” Yuri said finally, wincing at how hoarse his voice was.

 

Yuuri frowned. “I know. I just wish you’d tell someone why.”

 

_Because no one listens to me when I try._

 

Instead of voicing his thoughts, Yuri only shrugged, looking out towards the window. The moonlight was still bright, illuminating the space. He swore he could hear gentle music from outside on the street. A violin, maybe?

 

_Someone must be busking. It sounds nice._

_Fuck, pay attention._

_I can’t keep zoning out like this._

 

“Otabek feels really bad about what he said,” Yuuri continued softly, “You know he didn’t mean it like that, right?”

 

_Okay. Not your business. Assholes, all of you. Leave me alone._

 

At this point, Yuri wanted everyone to just _go away._ He yearned for the peaceful moment he had earlier when he began to dance by himself. Mind flashing back even further, he thought of the time he went to the rink alone after his assault. Being the only one on the ice was so peaceful. While his friends had been giving him more space in the past few days, he barely had any alone time. He wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else. Pick a world, pick a universe. Anything had to be better than the one he was currently in.

 

_I wish I could vanish. I wish I could so somewhere and get some fucking peace and quiet. I wish I was safe. I wish…_

_I wish they understood._

 

He knew too long had passed since Yuuri had spoken and should’ve answered by now. Instead, he lay back down on the bed, looking out the window towards the moon. All he wanted was to close his eyes and wake up somewhere else. Somewhere quiet.

 

Yuuri sighed quietly behind him, the bed shifting as he stood and headed back out the door. Yuri was hyper-alert now to the noises around him and he strained his ears to listen to the conversation that was happening outside his room.

 

“Did he say anything?” Victor asked.

 

“No,” Yuuri said sadly, “Just that he didn’t want to talk. How is Otabek doing?”

 

There was a pause and Yuri figured they were probably sharing some sickening heartfelt look.

 

“Still on the couch. I think he might be asleep now,” Victor responded before heaving a heavy sigh.

 

“Victor, what is it?”

 

“Yuuri...Yurio is a minor. We can’t just let him...I mean, he needs help. Whether he wants it or not. I think we need to call his grandfather. He’s got to know what’s happening.”

 

_What? No! No, no, no. You can’t do that! Please, please no._

 

Yuri desperately wanted to jump out of the bed, to run out and stop them. Instead, he curled in more on himself, trying to block his panicked thoughts. He knew that if his grandfather found out, it would be all over. Everything would be out on the table. His worst nightmare, come to life.

 

_So why am I not stopping it?_

 

He struggled internally for a few minutes, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He looked out to the moon and with one slow exhale, he let his fears go.

 

_Who cares if grandpa knows? I’ve already disappointed everyone else. I might as well disappoint him, too._

 

“Mr. Plisetsky? This is Victor Nikiforov,” Victor was saying. Yuri’s heart skipped a beat.

 

“Yuri? Well, no. He’s not. That’s why I wanted to call you. Listen...this isn’t going to be easy, sir.”

 

_Fuck, Victor. You’re going to give him a heart attack._

 

“I understand. I’ll tell you everything...it looks like Yuri’s been involved in some bad things. He was desperate for money and a group of men in your neighborhood took advantage of him a few weeks back. Yuri mentioned a name, Pavel.”

 

There was a pause. Yuri could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

 

“Yes, sir. It...it was. When we confronted him about the assault, he ran. That’s when he went missing for a few days. No, I’m sorry, but that’s not all. He...I’m sorry, this is hard for me to say.”

 

There was another pause and Yuri felt the vague sensation of panic in his gut before it was replaced by icy numbness.

 

“He...he had to resort to desperate measures. He said he felt trapped, like he had no choice. Well, we found him in the red light district. Yes...yes, I’m so sorry Mr. Plisetsky. We’ve been taking care of him as best we can, but we think he needs professional help.”

 

_Fuck._

_Well, now everyone knows._

_Great._

 

Strangely, at that moment Yuri thought of a game he used to play when he was younger. He and his friends from his old neighborhood were pirates, the abandoned car on the end of the road their mighty ship. He recalled a time when they were sailing one afternoon, carefree and happy, completely lost in their imaginary world, when a car accident occurred on the road right in front of them.

 

Yuri remembered the jarring sensation of leaving his bright, colorful imaginary world to be pulled into the gritty reality of real life as he heard the sickening crunch of the metal. He felt like that now, eyes tearing away from the moon as he forced himself to think rationally about his next steps.

 

_Fuck. I can’t do this._

_You know what?_

_I don’t fucking care._

_Strength. Pain. Numb. Whatever._

_I’ll just lie here._

_I don’t care what they make me do._

 

Tuning back into the conversation, he realized Victor must have hung up and he and Yuuri were now speaking.

 

“Victor, what did he say?” Yuuri asked, probably unable to follow the Russian that well.

 

“He’s...oh, Yuuri, he’s devastated. He agreed we should get him some help. I’m thinking we’ll start with Yakov, he might know someone discreet that could meet with him here,” Victor said softly.

 

A commotion of thoughts was blasting through Yuri’s mind now. Memories, emotions, all the sensory input from around him, the music from the street. He wanted it silent, he wanted everyone to stop _talking._

 

_Fuck I just want to be alone for five goddamn minutes! I want peace, I want quiet, I want, I want...I don’t know._

 

The beginnings of a storm were gathering inside of him and Yuri knew that soon, it would explode. Destructive and deadly, he knew his thunder clouds wouldn’t only harm him. Maybe…

 

_Maybe I should just give in and do what they want._

_I should probably...say something. Fuck, should I apologize? I don’t know. I don’t feel like I did anything wrong…_

 

Sitting up again, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and moved to stand. He wobbled for a moment, but after steadying himself and taking a deep breath, he walked out of his room. Victor and Yuuri were sitting at the kitchen table, looking at him with surprised expressions. Makkachin was curled up against the kitchen cabinets and a warmth filled him as he remembered how well the dog had calmed him.

 

“Yuri? How are you feeling?” Yuuri asked him, brow furrowing. Yuri ignored them both and went over to sit next to Makkachin, petting her softly. Each time he ran a hand through her fur the tension would drain from his body, bit by bit.

 

_It must be nice to be a dog._

 

“Yuri?”

 

He wasn’t even sure which one of them had said it, but he was so sick of hearing his name called like that, so sick of everyone worrying.

 

“Fuck off,” he growled, “Just...please.”

 

No one said anything for a moment, but Yuri could sense the tension growing.

 

_This apartment is too small for four emotional skaters. It’s definitely too crowded for me._

 

“Yuri...Otabek is in the living room. Do you think you should talk with him?”

 

_No! No, I don’t. Just...stop! You’re not my parents!_

 

“No,” he said softly, continuing to pet the dog, “I don’t.”

 

Someone touched his shoulder at that moment and Yuri pulled back instinctively, feeling cornered.

 

_Fucking hell, how do they not get this yet?_

 

“Seriously, what is with you?” Yuri said, voice rising, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

 

The commotion had awakened Otabek, who was standing in the doorway and watching the scene with wide eyes. Yuri panicked as he felt pressure from all three men who were looking at him. The exits were blocked.

 

_I can’t get out. I can’t get out. Fuck._

_Breathe, breathe before you give yourself another panic attack._

_Come on, Plisetsky._

 

“Get the fuck _off me!_ ” Yuri should again, moving to brush the hand off his shoulder. He expected to feel a weight lift him, but after a moment he realized that _no one was touching him._ There was no hand on his shoulder. The pressure felt real, he could still feel it, even though he knew rationally it wasn’t there. His breathing increased as he tried to figure out what was happening.

 

_What? What is going on?_

 

“That’s enough, Yuri,” Victor said finally, voice cracking, “We’re getting you help, and we’re getting it now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the amazing reviews! I am truly humbled by them and I hope people like this update. I know we didn't see much of Otabek in this chapter, but he and Yuri are due for a real conversation, so that will happen soon. We've got to get the bean a little more stable first, though.


	14. Confessions in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check fic tags for trigger warnings. Almost everything is referenced (some more graphically than others) in this chapter.

They tried to get him to talk to a therapist.

 

Yuri fought it tooth and nail.

 

The day after his outburst in the kitchen, a nice looking lady with dark hair and glasses came to speak with him. Yuri stayed silent through the whole thing, refusing to answer any questions. He had no desire to speak with a stranger, especially one who was getting paid to see him. Finding the whole idea absurd, he stayed tight-lipped and refused to cooperate.

 

Later that week, they drove him to an office building where he met with a kind older man who spoke to Yuri with a soft voice. His office smelled like leather and old books, a dusty kind of sweetness. It was nice, but boring, and Yuri ended up falling asleep in the middle of the session, still refusing to speak. He didn’t feel guilty, but he did feel agitated that he was being dragged around like a child.

 

During the times in between these forced sessions, Yuri was a force to be reckoned with. On the car ride back from his last appointment, he had gotten into a shouting match with Victor that was so intense, Yuuri actually _turned the car around_ and stopped until they both calmed down. Otabek tried to help after Yuri’s failed therapy sessions, but the younger Russian was having none of it.

 

_Why can’t they leave me the fuck alone? I just want some peace and quiet._

_I want this noise in my head to stop._

 

After the fifth or sixth failed attempt at finding a counselor for Yuri, Victor was at his wit’s end. Threatening to check Yuri into a hospital if he didn’t shape up, Yuri had stormed off into his room, slamming the door behind him.

 

_Fuck you. Fuck you, Victor._

 

A soft knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts.

 

“Go _away_ , Victor!” he shouted, chucking his pillow towards the closed door, “Goddammit, just leave me alone!”

 

The door opened anyway.

 

_Why am I not surprised?_

 

“Yura, it’s me,” Otabek said softly, “May I please come in?”

 

Yuri blushed, a little ashamed of himself.

 

“Yeah, sorry Beka,” he mumbled, moving over so his boyfriend could sit on the end of the bed. Otabek pulled the door closed behind him, an awkward silence filling the bedroom. They still hadn’t talked about...well, anything really. Not the panic attack, or what Otabek had said about him running.

 

They definitely hadn’t talked about what had happened to Yuri or what he had done.

 

Otabek sat down on the bed, keeping his distance. Yuri felt a little twinge of guilt at how fucking _sad_ his boyfriend looked, but his anger towards Victor was still fueling his thoughts.

 

“How...how are you?” Otabek asked, breaking the silence.

 

Yuri laughed humorlessly. “Just peachy.”

 

_God, why am I such a dick? Jesus._

 

“Yura, I wanted to apologize,” he continued, “I am so, so sorry for what I said to you. I know...I know you didn’t have a choice. It was wrong of me to say that. I was just so scared for you and I didn’t know what to do.”

 

It was rare for Otabek to give such a long speech and Yuri was rendered silent by the words at first.

 

_Okay, so he’s apologizing. Right. I guess I should say something now._

 

“It’s okay,” he said in his emotionless, cold voice, “Really, I know you didn’t mean it. But I was a fucking disaster though, you’re right. I didn’t have to run.”

 

Otabek looked worried. “Victor and Yuuri said you’re not talking to your therapists. I...I really want to help you. Will you...will you talk to me?”

 

_This is not going to end well, I can already tell._

 

Yuri suddenly was rushed with thoughts, thoughts that have been plaguing him for weeks.

 

“Why haven’t you broken up with me yet?” he asked in the same flat tone, noting the shocked look on his boyfriend’s face, “I mean, seriously. I cheated on you and I lied.”

 

Otabek looked lost for words. “I...because I _love_ you, Yura. I’m not going to leave you like this.”

 

Yuri laid back, resting his head on the pillow. “You should. There’s...there’s a lot you still don’t know about me.”

 

“Then _tell me._ Talk to me,” Otabek pleaded, moving closer, “Please, I just want to help.”

 

Sighing, Yuri pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

_What the hell can I say to get him to understand? He thinks if I just...let it out, it’ll all magically be okay? Well, I guess it’s worth trying._

 

“Beka, I’m _literally_ a whore,” he said, “A stranger paid me actual money to have sex in the back of a shitty car in a crappy alley in the St. Petersburg red light district. I don’t think you owe me anything, or even if you should be helping me.”

 

“It’s not about oweing,” Otabek said, a waver in his voice betraying his emotions, “Yura, I understand why you did that, I do. But that’s not all that happened to you and I think if you keep it in any longer, it’s going to eat you alive.”

 

_He’s probably right. I can’t believe this hasn’t run him off yet. But damn, still. This isn’t anyone’s business but mine._

 

“Then what do you want to hear about?” Yuri scoffed, feeling himself getting riled up, “How I was gang raped by drug dealers? How my father abandoned us? How my mother tried to kill herself in front of me when I was a kid? Which fucking story do you want, Beka?”

 

Otabek had unshed tears in his eyes now and a familiar sensation of guilt was building up inside of Yuri at the sight.

 

_Fuck, I am the worst._

 

“All of it,” Otabek said hoarsely, “Anything. Anything you need to say, I’ll listen. I love you, I’m not leaving you. Please, just talk to me.”

 

_Jesus, I can’t believe him. How far do I have to push him before he understands?_

 

“The guy I had sex with,” he said bluntly, “The one in the car. He didn’t use protection and he fucked me so hard I hit my head on the car door.”

 

Otabek looked sick to his stomach, but Yuri found suddenly that he couldn’t stop. It was like the time a few weeks back when he had poured the truth out in the kitchen. Words were flowing out of him and he couldn’t stop the avalanche.

 

“It was horrible,” he continued, “It hurt, it hurt so much. When I came back here, I showered for hours until my skin was almost raw.”

 

Otabek’s hand twitched, like he was reaching for Yuri, but he held himself in place, swallowing as he nodded for Yuri to continue.

 

“It was my choice, but it still felt like rape.”

 

_It was my choice...but it still felt like rape._

 

The words seemed to echo in Yuri’s head and in the room in silence. Yuri realized he hadn’t admitted that part to himself yet, because it would be admitting a loss of control. He had offered sex for money as an illusion of control and now the illusion was broken.

 

“Yura?” Otabek asked, and Yuri realized he had drifted again.

 

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck you, Beka! Fuck you for making me admit that!_

 

The illusion of control was the only thing keeping that memory from completely consuming him, and now all Yuri could feel was horror. Horror with himself for being so weak, shame eating him up inside for all of the wrongs he had done. Everything ran through the front of his mind like a movie and he was unable to stop it.

 

“Beka,” he choked out, voice full of emotion, “It hurt so bad.”

 

He realized that he was shaking and he suddenly wanted nothing more than someone to hold him. Knowing that Otabek was probably scared to initiate any contact, Yuri reached out a shaky hand and grasped onto his boyfriend’s arm.

 

“I can still feel it,” he gasped, eyes darkening, “I still feel their hands on me.”

 

“Oh, _Yura,_ ” Otabek cried, pulling him close. Yuri was still shaking, but he felt a little safer in his boyfriend’s arms. He felt like he had whiplash, going from feeling a complete void of emotion to feeling a rush of _everything_ in a matter of moments.

 

Otabek held him for a long time, seeming to understand that Yuri wasn’t going to say anything more. Yuri was hyperfocused to the sound of a ticking clock, one that was on the dresser in the bedroom. Each _tick_ was a reminder, a reminder of how much time he was wasting, how much time he had wasted.

 

_I’m only sixteen but I feel like I’m a thousand years old. This weight is too much._

_I do feel a little bit better. Maybe...maybe Beka was right._

_Damn him._

 

Eventually, they shifted so they were both lying down, Otabek wrapped around Yuri protectively. Still shaking, Yuri focused on playing with Otabek’s fingers, pressing their hands together and intertwining their fingers. Otabek said nothing, but was watching Yuri with a concerned, yet fond, expression.

 

The spell lasted a long time, the cool air of the room filled with nothing but the sounds of the ticking clock and their breathing. An hour passed, maybe two before a gentle knock shook them both from their thoughts.

 

A very nervous Yuuri was at the door, looking as if he very much regretted interrupting them.

 

“Yuri, are you awake?” he asked softly, opening the door. Yuri sat up, Otabek alongside him.

 

Yuuri walked in, followed by an equally nervous looking Victor. Yuri’s heartbeat increased as they shared a nervous look.

 

“Yuri...they’ve found your mother,” Victor said quietly.

 

_What? Where is she?_

 

“She’s been arrested for illegal drug use and...prostitution. I’m so sorry.”

 

There was a long pause, the _ticking_ of the clock seeming louder every moment. Something seemed to build up inside of him, a feeling he couldn’t explain. After too long of pause, the emotion exploded out of him, shocking the others in the room.

  
Yuri burst out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Okay, you people are amazing. I feel so motivated to write because of your incredibly kind comments. I really hope that I am doing this story justice for everyone. I would say there is a very good likelihood of it being finished this weekend. I finished Prism today and posted a one-shot, plus two chapters for this story, so I am on FIRE, people. Writing FIRE! 
> 
> Thanks so much for the motivation, seriously. Every comment pushes me to write my best and I can't thank you enough for the motivation.
> 
> I am also giving partial credit to writing music playlists on YouTube. Seriously, SO MOTIVATING.


	15. Unhinged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check fic tags for trigger warnings, paying special notice to both archive warnings.

Yuri’s strange, broken laughter echoed around the room. He found that once he started laughing he couldn’t stop. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him, but more than that it was pure shock that was causing him to react this way. He saw the others sharing extremely worried glances as he sat on the bed, laughing his _ass_ off.

 

He knew he looked insane, but he couldn’t stop laughing. Complete and total disbelief and utter shock at the misfortunate turns his life was taking, Yuri felt nothing other than dramatic irony and a dark humor towards his life.

 

Eventually, his laughter caused his breathing to increase, make him cough and splutter. His head felt light, his body once again feeling like it was far away from him, detached.

 

_Arrested for drug abuse and prostitution. Of course, it must be a family thing._

_Why the fuck am I still laughing?_

 

The insane laughter had begun to die down and now he was feeling exhausted. Dropping his head down into his hands, he could feel himself trembling with both exhaustion and adrenaline.

 

“Um...Yurio?” Victor asked, sounding more nervous than Yuri had ever heard him.

 

There was silence in the room and Yuri realized they were probably all freaked out by his strange display of emotion. Unsure of what to do, he just looked up. He had gone through too much emotion in one day to deal with other people’s awkward feelings.

 

He really just didn’t give a fuck anymore.

 

“Is she really locked up?” Yuri asked quietly.

 

“Yes,” Yuuri answered, “For...a long time, Yurio. It sounds like this isn’t her first run-in with the police. They’re charging her with several things. She could be in prison for up to fifteen years.”

 

_Fifteen...years? Holy shit._

_At least...at least she’ll stay clean in there. At least she won’t be on the streets._

 

“Good,” he said, ignoring their expressions, “She’ll be safe in there.”

 

_At least she’ll have food. And I won’t have to worry about her getting hooked on something new all the time. And grandfather won’t have to watch out for her._

 

_I’m a terrible son._

 

“Good?” Otabek asked, voice cracking, “This is...good?”

 

Yuri nodded. “She has a place to sleep and three meals a day. Plus, she can’t stay hooked on drugs in there.”

 

There was another awkward silence in the room at his words and Yuri was reminded of how little his friends really understood his life. Ignoring them, he reached for his phone to call his grandfather. He picked up on the third ring.

 

“Grandpa?” he asked, feeling guilty that they hadn’t spoken in while.

 

 _“Yurachka? Oh, my boy,_ ” his grandfather said, _“Victor told me about your mother. I am so sorry.”_

 

“I’m not,” Yuri confessed, “She’ll get clean in jail.”

 

_“That’s true. I am only sorry that you must have this as another burden on you. They tell me...you are refusing help?”_

 

Yuri swallowed. _Shit._

 

“I...I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Yuri admitted, ignoring the curious looks from the others, “Listen, grandpa...I was thinking we should go back to the neighborhood. I still owe rent money to the Koslov’s.”

 

There was a pause. _“Yes, I think that would be good. I can drive over and meet you in a few minutes.”_

 

“Sounds good. Thanks, grandpa,” he said, “Love you.”

 

_“I love you too, Yurachka.”_

 

After he hung up, Yuri felt a strange sensation. Not...peace, exactly, but more like hardening acceptance. His mother was in jail. He supposed he should feel sad about it, but honestly he was just relieved.

 

_One less thing to be responsible for. Does that make me a terrible person?_

 

“Yuri...are you okay?” Victor asked, the awkward tension still hanging in the room. Yuri nodded, leaning over to put on his shoes.

 

“Yeah, my grandpa’s coming over. We’re going to take a drive,” Yuri smiled, ignoring their worried stares and getting himself ready, “I’ll see you in a bit!”

 

_Seeing grandpa, taking a drive. This is going to be great! I haven’t seen him in a long time. Ugh, why are they still staring at me? Oh, I mean I know I was laughing psychotically, but…_

 

“Yura,” Otabek stammered, “Please, wait. You’re not okay.”

 

_Ah, fuck off, Beka. I’m fine. Jesus._

 

Rolling eyes his, Yuri sat back down on the edge of the bed, folding his arms and staring up at his boyfriend with his eyebrows raised.

 

“What?” he snapped.

 

Gulping, Otabek looked to Yuuri and Victor for help. They way they were looking at Yuri was unsettling, as if he was some wild animal that was just as likely to bite as to purr.

 

There was an awkward silence, interrupted only by his phone buzzing. His grandfather was downstairs, waiting in a borrowed car.

 

“Grandpa’s here. Be back later!” Yuri exclaimed, heading out of the bedroom and out of the apartment. On the way out, he heard them start talking.

 

“What the _hell_ was that?” Victor asked.

 

* * *

 

Riding in the car with his grandfather felt strangely comforting, as if he was a small boy again and going on one of their shopping trips. He missed his grandfather driving him around, missed talking with him about his day. Part of him was angry with his grandfather for leaving him with so much responsibility, but he was also the only present family member Yuri had left.

 

They kept the conversation fairly light, neither wanting to broach the topic at hand. Yuri knew his grandfather was very upset about the choices that he had made, but right now Yuri was feeling so careless that he really _didn’t give a fuck._

 

Driving back into their old neighborhood seemed _worse_ than it used to, maybe because Yuri had spent a while living with Victor and Yuuri in a nicer part of town. The buildings looked a little darker, the people more downtrodden. Yuri wasn’t sure if it had gotten worse or if he had been removed from it long enough to see what it really looked like.

 

His grandfather pulled the car in front of their neighbor’s house and Yuri hopped out, holding onto an envelope filled with the same wad of cash he had gotten in the red light district.

 

_This is enough to pay them back for keeping grandpa._

 

Not wanting to have a long conversation, Yuri made sure the envelope was well-sealed and placed it into their mailbox. Heading back to the car, he walked lightly, feeling a kind of crazed energy in his body. Jitters ran through him as if he had drunk too much caffeine and eaten a whole bag of pixie sticks.

 

_Why am I so energetic? What the fuck?_

 

Getting back in the car, he noticed his grandfather staring out of the window, tight-lipped, towards the other side of the street. Yuri turned around and swayed as the bottom fell out of his stomach.

 

_No way. Fuck._

 

Walking towards the shop on the corner were the men. The ones who _hurt_ him. Pavel lead the way, laughing as he took a drag off of a cigarette.

 

He had imagined what it would be like to see the men who assaulted him again. He had fantasized about what he would say to them, how he would act. Imagining all sorts of scenarios, he figured the most likely one would be him having some kind of panic attack as he called the police. In his mind, Otabek, Victor, and Yuuri had been there to support him.

 

What he didn’t imagine was being alone. He didn’t imagine feeling _rage_.

 

Burning flames of anger filled him, licking up his stomach and into his throat. An all-consuming fire spread through his body, causing him to curl his fists in anger and clench his teeth. He saw his grandfather turn towards him, looking scared.

 

“Yuri?” he croaked, abandoning the usual nickname, “Yuri, my boy…”

 

Yuri didn’t want to hear it. He ignored his grandfather’s pleas, and left the car, slamming the door behind him.

 

_I am going to beat the shit out of them._

 

The fire completely consuming him, he felt himself begin to run to catch up to the group. There were four in total, all much larger than him.

 

_They might be bigger than me, but I am more pissed off._

 

“Hey, ASSHOLES!” Yuri screamed, picking up a rock off the road and chucking it towards them. They turned around, almost comical as they wore identical looks of surprise.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the angry  _kotenok_ ,” Pavel grinned, “Heard you did some work on the side in the other part of town a few weeks ago.”

 

_What? How the fuck does he know about that?_

 

Feeling a mixture of rage and overwhelming nausea, Yuri ignored the comment and hurled himself towards them, leaping on the first one he could find and punching him in the face.

 

His fist connected with the man’s jaw, and a sickening _crunch_ echoed through the street, blood pouring from where he had struck.

 

 _Good. I still know how to throw a punch_.

 

A ringing filled his ears as he lashed out wildly at the men around him. He registered that he was taking a few hits too, but it didn’t matter. He punched, kicked, even bit. It was the first real fight he had been in since he was a kid and the adrenaline was pumping so much it almost didn’t feel real.

 

He could hear them taunting him and he wasn’t sure if it was real, or in his mind.

 

“ _Whore,_ ” he could hear them laughing, “Stupid fucking kid.”

 

All of the strange emotions he had been carrying around for weeks were suddenly rushing through him. Agony, fear, sadness, guilt, disgust, betrayal, depression, anxiety.

 

Punch.

 

_That’s for everyone you’ve hurt._

 

Kick.

 

_That’s for fucking with my mom._

 

Bite.

Kick.

Punch.

Tackle.

 

 _And_ **_that’s_ ** _for raping me._

 

As his energy began to run out, he began to recognize some sounds around him. He came more to his senses, feeling surges of pain go through his body. He was standing up still, and there was cursing and groaning around him. Realizing that three of the four men were laying on the ground, groaning, he looked down to his fist and noted dully that he had probably broken his knuckles.

 

_Ow._

 

“YURI!” his grandfather was screaming his name desperately from across the road and Yuri realized that a small crowd had arrived on the street, staring at him in shock. He felt a sense of triumph as he noticed Pavel was one of the men on the ground. The last thug still standing looked very worse for wear. A couple of strangers he didn't recognize had leapt in to help, both looking like they had flattened some of the men. Yuri was grateful for the help, figuring that's why he was still standing.

 

“You’re a fucking psycho, kid,” he spat, blood mixing with saliva on the pavement.

 

Yuri felt hysterical giggles building up inside of him, but he didn’t let them out. The scene seemed to flash in front of him, blinding and bright. He felt a trickle of something hot running down his face.

 

_My head is bleeding._

 

"He’s just a damn  _kid_ , you cowards,” spat a guy with blood on his knuckles who had stepped in to fight.

 

Another voice joined in, “You assholes had it coming!”

 

“Is that _Yuri?_ ” a third voice chimed in, “The Plisetsky kid? He weighs like ten pounds soaking wet! He would've gotten thrashed without help.”

 

“Hey, kid, you may want to jet. Looks like the cops are coming,” the first voice mumbled quickly. Yuri backed up, seeing the sirens in the distance.

 

Looking to the left, he saw his grandfather, calling to him desperately from the car. Looking to the right, he saw the open streets.

 

_If I ran now, no one would find me._

_I could make it, I clearly can defend myself._

 

He took a step to the right, heart beating at the thought of _freedom._

 

“YURI!” his grandfather called, “Hurry!”

 

He could hear the sirens now, the cop cars turning and heading down towards the scene. Yuri took another few steps to the right before a voice echoed in his head.

 

_“I love you. I’m not leaving.”_

 

_Beka._

 

_Beka!_

 

_Yuuri, Victor._

 

Stopping himself, he turned, heading back towards the left and his grandfather’s car. Leaping into the side door like he was in a bad cop movie, his grandfather sped off just as the police were turning down the street.

 

Admiring how close he had come to getting arrested, Yuri ran a hand through his hair, laughter building up inside him.

 

“Yurachka,” his grandfather croaked, “Oh Yuri…”

 

Yuri burst out laughing, body still shaking from adrenaline. “I beat the shit out of those assholes, grandpa.”

 

His grandfather cracked a smile, in spite of himself. “You did.”

 

_I did._

_I can protect myself._

_No one can fucking hurt me again._

_Man, what a rush._

_Beka…_

_Beka will you be proud of me?_

 

He leaned his head on the window, ignoring the smear of blood it left. The car ride was spent in silence, Yuri thrumming with adrenaline and pride.

 

* * *

 

Yuri figured his grandfather must have called Victor during the fight, because when they arrived back at the apartment, not only were all three of his roommates outside, but Yakov as well.

 

“Yura!” Otabek called, rushing towards the car. Flinging open the door, his jaw dropped at the mangled state of his boyfriend. Hair mussed, face bruised and streaked with blood, Yuri clutched his broken hand to his chest.

 

“Shit,” Otabek cursed, “What the fuck, Yura! Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

 

Yuri laughed, a real laugh this time.

 

_Wow, I haven’t laughed for real in...in a long time._

 

“Man, Beka, you should have seen it,” he laughed, “I kicked their fucking _asses._ ”

 

Otabek smiled weakly, running a gentle hand through Yuri’s hair. Yuri winced as he brushed over an injury.

 

“He did,” his grandfather said proudly from the front seat, “Knocked three of them right out.”

 

Victor and Yuuri were looking at him in surprise, as if unsure of what to say. Yakov was looking disapprovingly at Yuri’s grandfather and with concern at his student.

 

“Yurachka, you are a mess,” Yakov growled, looking his prodigee up and down, “That was stupid and reckless. And... _what_ is wrong with your hand?”

 

Yuri smirked, quirking up an eyebrow. “I broke it punching one of those assholes in the face.”

 

Otabek snorted with laughter next to him and covered his mouth in surprise. “Sorry, sorry it’s not funny…”

 

Yuri’s heart leapt. He hadn’t seen his boyfriend smile in a long time, and he swelled with happiness at the sight.

 

“You want to know what else?” Yuri grinned, “They called me an angry kitten. I guess they weren’t expecting the claws to come out.”

 

Otabek locked eyes with him and they _lost_ it. They laughed so hard that Yuri had to clutch his stomach, both supporting each other. He eventually stood with a wince, leaning on his boyfriend.

 

“Come on, slugger,” Victor said, ruffling his hair fondly, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there it is! I am NOT condoning violence, what Yuri did was very risky and dangerous, but this chapter was SO much fun to write, oh my goodness. So satisfying.
> 
> On another note, I am so happy I am only writing one story now that I have finished Prism. Writing multiple stories at once was killing me, so I am hopeful that giving my full attention to the rest of this will make it as good as it can possibly be. It’s going to end up being 18-20 chapters. It depends on how the boys behave as I am typing.


	16. In Noctem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t want to spoil anything, but PLEASE take serious consideration of the archive warnings for this chapter. If you want more information before reading, please check the end notes for more detailed trigger warnings (be aware that these will be spoilers).

Yuri loved the moonlight.

 

His mind became more alive at night. The silence would calm him and when the moon would beam in the window, Yuri felt as if he was privy to a secret world, one all his own, where he was safe and unaffected by his conflicting emotions.

 

He had secluded himself in the bedroom after a forced doctor’s visit to get his hand bandaged. It turned out that it was only a nasty sprain, but he still had to have it wrapped for a few weeks. The adrenaline crash from the fight had hit him hard, and all Yuri wanted to do was sleep.

 

For a few hours, everything had seemed light and jovial. He recounted the experience to anyone who would listen, proud of himself for facing his attackers and putting them down. But as the day wore on and the light began to fade, his thoughts became a little more clear. Sure, he had beaten the hell out of them, but he hadn’t really accomplished anything.

 

They were still on the street.

 

They could do it to someone else.

 

Not to mention he had been having fits of uncontrollable laughter all day that made him feel like he belonged in a rubber room.

 

Yuri was fairly certain the men would leave him alone if he ever saw them again, not wanting to get their asses kicked twice by a punk kid, but he still felt a twinge of fear that they were out there. He had thought fighting them would help him to reclaim control of his body and emotions, but after the rush had faded, the familiar emptiness returned.

 

He _knew_ he needed to get help.

 

His pride prevented him from saying it out loud, but he knew he was acting irrational and dangerous. He didn’t even know his own mind, couldn’t predict his own reactions. Rationally, he was aware he probably had PTSD and he knew it wasn’t his fault, but he was still scared. If he kept going down this road, he could hurt himself again, or worse, hurt someone else. Yuri had no desire to drag his loved ones down the dark alley that was his life.

 

Thoughts swirling through his brain, Yuri looked out the window, his eyes taking in the beauty of the moonlight. It was nearly three a.m. and everyone else was long asleep. Once again, the _tick tick tick_ of the clock in his room was all he could hear. Otabek lay curled next to him, sound asleep. Yuri looked at his boyfriend fondly, running a soft hand over his cheek. The older skater shifted in his sleep, curling closer towards him. Yuri’s heart surged, but he stilled his hand, not wanting to wake the other, he wanted some time alone.

 

His music box train lay on the bedside table, unassuming and small. Yuri desperately wanted to turn it, to hear the soft tinkling of the old notes, the _Swan Lake_ ballet dancing in front of his eyes. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t reach for it. He loved the train, but now with thoughts of his mother’s arrest in his mind, he didn’t want anything to do with her.

 

_I can’t be thinking of her, or papa. They’re lost to me. I’ll be thirty next time I can see mama, and he’s long gone. It’s really just me and grandpa now._

 

Yuri knew he could visit his mother, but the thought of going to a prison seemed too daunting to him. He was irrationally afraid that someone might recognize him from his stints on the streets and he was too scared to face owning up to his own illegal actions.

 

_Buying illegal meds for years and whoring myself out is a great way to get a one-way ticket to juvie. I best steer clear._

 

Otabek shifted in his sleep, grumbling a little as he moved so his head was in Yuri’s lap. Yuri smiled fondly at his boyfriend, bringing a gentle hand down to rest in Otabek’s hair. His boyfriend stilled, even breaths helping Yuri to stay calm. A twinge of guilt burned through Yuri as he recalled the conversation they had on the way to the doctor’s office.

 

“You look worse than I did after my fall in Italy,” Otabek had said, frowning as he worked to clean the blood off of Yuri’s face.

 

Yuri had been surprised, unsure of what he meant. “When did you fall in Italy?”

 

The others had looked at him in concern and Yuri faintly realized that this was the look they gave him when he missed something important or obvious.

 

“When Victor and I went to Italy last week to skate,” Otabek had said in concern, “Yura, don’t you remember?”

 

Yuri didn’t remember, the days blurring together so much that he hadn’t even recalled Yuuri staying behind to watch over him. He honestly hadn’t even noticed that both Victor and Otabek were gone for a few days. Feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world, Yuri apologized profusely and watched both of their programs online. Victor had taken gold easily, and Otabek would have taken silver had it not been for a nasty fall after a quad sal. Instead, he walked away with bronze.

 

Sighing as the moonlight grazed over Otabek’s face in his lap, Yuri tried to think of what he could do to make it up to his boyfriend. What would Otabek want?

 

_Probably for me to talk to a therapist. Maybe I should request one come see me at night, I always seem to think more clearly in the dark._

 

Smirking to himself at the ridiculous thought, Yuri continued to thread his fingers through Otabek’s hair, hoping it was lulling his boyfriend into a happy, dreamlike state. However after a few moments, Otabek shifted, opening a bleary eye and looking up at him.

 

“Yura?” he mumbled sleepily, “Y’still awake?”

 

Yuri leaned down, kissing his forehead softly. “Ssh, go back to sleep, Beka.”

 

Otabek ignored him, moving up so his head was even with Yuri’s. “It’s three a.m. Why’re you up?”

 

Yuri shrugged. “It’s quiet, I like it.”

 

Otabek nodded, moving to take Yuri’s hand, frowning when he felt the cast on his fingers.

 

“You scared the hell out of me today,” Otabek said quietly, not looking Yuri in the eye.

 

_Fuck, I know I did._

 

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said, “I...I saw them...and I couldn’t control myself.”

 

Otabek opened his mouth liked he wanted to ask more, but he quickly closed it, obviously not wanting to upset him. For some reason, this really bothered Yuri.

 

_It should come from me. He’s always pushing me to talk._

_Maybe it’s my turn to start._

 

“I thought it would make me feel better to kick their asses,” Yuri whispered, “Instead, I just felt...nothing.”

 

“Nothing?” Otabek inquired, looking at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”

 

Yuri sighed, unsure of how to explain. “It’s like...ever since they...hurt me, I have just been walking around, numb. It’s not a _sad_ feeling, it’s just an empty one. Nothing. A...void, I guess.”

 

Otabek was fully awake now, sitting up and staring at Yuri like he had never seen him before.

 

“What?” Yuri asked defensively.

 

“Sorry,” Otabek rushed out, “You just don’t usually talk about your feelings. I’m...surprised.”

 

Feeling self-conscious, Yuri looked away back out the window, the familiar sight of the moon calming him.

 

“I think maybe it’s time I did,” he confessed quietly, “Before I really hurt someone.”

 

Turning to face his boyfriend again, Yuri took Otabek’s hands in his own, looking up at him with earnest eyes.

 

“Beka...I want to tell you. Everything.”

 

Otabek nodded and Yuri took a deep breath, beginning slowly. He started with the fear and abandonment he felt when his father had left. The horror and shock of his mother’s suicide attempt and drug use. How Yuri would still flinch when he saw beer bottles and how the sight of blood made him dizzy.

 

He gushed about feeling lost and scared as a young teenager, but pushing it aside to support his family with his skating. The desperation to win gold for the prize money. How worthless he had felt when they lost their home. The anger and frustration at his mother and grandfather for not helping with the bills. Guilt and shame when he almost stole Yuuri’s medication. Feelings of shame for quitting in the middle of the skating season.

 

Every word, every confession seemed to lift a weight off of his shoulders. Through it all, Otabek said nothing, but listened with unfailing support. Yuri’s voice didn’t waver once, until he reached a little closer to the present.

 

Speaking of selling his medal to Magda for drugs was hard. Telling Otabek about the assault was harder. He began the story, but faltered.

 

“Yura?” Otabek asked after a moment. Yuri swallowed nervously, realizing he had been talking nonstop for almost forty five minutes.

 

“I...this...I haven’t really…” Yuri fumbled, “Fuck.”

 

“Is this about...what they did to you?” Otabek asked. Yuri nodded. His boyfriend squeezed his hands gently.

 

“Take your time,” he said to Yuri, “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

 

Yuri closed his eyes, nodding as he took a few deep breaths. He willed himself to stay calm, the quiet of the night and the darkness helping to steady him. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Otabek was there with him and neither Victor or Yuuri would hear his confession. Having one person he cared about hear it was bad enough.

 

“I remember everything,” Yuri whispered, “Everything they did to me.”

 

Eyes still closed, he willed himself to stay grounded. He wanted, _needed_ to say these things, not have a panic attack in the middle of them.

 

“I...was asleep when they found me. In an abandoned building. I guess I was too fucking stupid to realize it was their turf...it was filled with prostitutes, I should have known. God, I was such an idiot.”

 

Yuri’s eyes glazed over, a hardened, icy look coming over them. It was his only defense.

 

“I thought about texting you, Beka, but I knew you couldn’t help. You weren’t even in Russia. So I texted Victor, but he couldn’t get to me. Pavel...the dealer. He asked me to work for him, for his high class clients. Said an athlete like me would draw high profile customers.”

 

Taking another deep breath to steady himself, Yuri got to the worst part.

 

“I refused. He...they pinned me down on the floor. One of them smashed my phone and someone else took off my shoes so I couldn’t run as fast if I managed to escape. I tried to fight them and Pavel punched me in the face. He called me a twink and spat on me.”

 

Hearing his breathing increase, Yuri pulled away from Otabek, gripping his own arms. He needed to dig his fingers in to ground himself. Rocking a little as the words poured out faster, he let the floodgates open fully for the first time in months.

 

“One of them pulled down his pants and he...he s-shoved his...dick...he made me...uh, go down on him. I coughed and tried to bite, but they were holding me down. He um...finished off in...in my t-throat, made me s-swallow…”

 

Tears were in his eyes now and he didn’t have the courage to look at his boyfriend, instead he focused on the moonlight flooding the blankets on the bed.

 

“I threw up after, and they just laughed. Each of them...there were three and they all...made me. I threw up every time. W-when they finished I…thought it was over.”

 

Feeling a small hysterical cry bubble up out of his throat, Yuri tugged at his hair a little, the sensation grounding him. He was vaguely aware that Otabek wasn’t touching him, and he appreciated it. While he was talking about it, he knew he may panic and hurt him if he felt too closed in.

 

“One of them told me that they needed to ruin me before I could work the streets. They...one of them took off my pants. I s-screamed, but no one...I mean, no one fucking did anything and...he…”

 

Yuri closed his eyes, trying to fight back the images. “He...he g-grabbed me and started...s-stroking me and fuck, I tried to s-stop it but he m-made me g-get hard…”

 

He gasped, a choking sound filling the room. He heard Otabek ask him something in concern, but Yuri shook his head. That had been one of the most difficult confessions, the one that shamed him the most. He needed to get through everything, he couldn’t stop now.

 

“One of them...he spat on his fingers and then just s-shoved them in...oh, god, it _hurts…”_

 

_Hurt. Not hurts. I’m not there, I’m here, with Beka. I’m safe. I’m just talking._

 

“He kept pushing and then...then he shoved his dick in me,” Yuri whispered, “He fucked me until he came and...then the others they...did the same…I was t-too tired to fight back, it hurt so much...”

 

Yuri squeezed his arms, grounding himself in the moment. He was almost through, almost to the end. He couldn’t stop talking now even if he desired.

 

“After the last one...c-came inside me, h-he grabbed my dick and s-stroked until...fuck...h-he’s making me c-come and I don’t want, I _don’t want it,_ ” Yuri sobbed, pressing his face into his knees.

 

_Fuck, it feels so real. Calm down. I can do this, I can do this. I can fucking get through this._

 

He took several long, slow breaths, steadying himself and keeping his face pressed into his knees. When he had some semblance of control over himself, he lifted his head, still not brave enough to look at his boyfriend.

 

“A-after,” he continued softly, “Pavel came in and...laughed. He told them to let me go, said I was...ruined. Nothing more they could do to me. I got up and I...I just went to the rink. That’s when I passed out on the phone, with you.”

 

Finally summoning the courage, Yuri looked Otabek in the eye.

 

Otabek had silent tears streaming down his face and looked like he might vomit at any second. Yuri knew how hard this must be for him to hear, but he also knew Otabek wanted him to talk. He felt horrible for putting his boyfriend through hearing this, but now that he had started, he found himself unable to stop.

 

“I...it didn’t feel real,” he confessed quietly, “It was like it happened to someone else. But I felt...I felt so...worthless. Ruined. When Victor and Yuuri asked about the bruise, I got so scared. I ran and…”

 

Shame and guilt burned inside of him, clawing their way up from his stomach to his throat, manifesting as angry tears.

 

“I fucking whored myself out,” he spat, “Goddamn it, I let those sons of bitches _win._ I...I let that disgusting man _fuck_ me in his car and...and it hurt so much, he didn’t even...he didn’t even have the decency to wear protection.”

 

Yuri laughed bitterly, anger surging through him as he thought of the man he had the misfortune of meeting in the red light district.

 

“He had the audacity to act nervous while he _fucked_ me in his own goddamn fucking car. A fucking teenager, that _asshole._ He even asked me how old I was and I…”

 

Vibrating with anger, Yuri squeezed at his arms again.

 

“He fucked me so hard and I was so hungry...my head hit the door and I got dizzy. The fucker didn’t even notice, just kept screwing me. God, it hurt. It hurt…”

 

_You need to stay calm. You need to get through this, Yuri. Come on._

 

“And then he _paid_ me,” Yuri continued, a little hysterically, tears beginning to build up again, “I...I let him fuck me because I was too stupid to stay here. Why the fuck did I run? I was _safe_ and I ran...god, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

 

Yuri was sitting with his legs drawn up to his chest, chin resting on top of his knees. His arms were wrapped around himself, giving himself the illusion of protection.

 

“I just feel so _w-worthless,_ ” he sobbed, “God, everything hurts…I just...I want this to be over…”

 

_I just want to be left in peace. I just want to feel safe. I just want you to hold me. I just want it not to hurt. Oh god, I wish it didn’t hurt so fucking much._

 

_I want mama. I want papa. I want to go back to Moscow, back when we were happy._

 

“Beka, I just want to go _home,_ ” he sobbed, and finally, _finally,_ the dam burst.

 

Yuri cried. He sobbed so hard that he could no longer support himself. Falling forward, he felt a pair of warm arms encircle him and he buried his face in Otabek’s chest, sobbing until he could barely breathe. He felt his boyfriend shaking as he held him, and he realized Otabek was crying, too.

 

“Yura,” Otabek croaked, voice heavy with tears, “I am so sorry.”

 

_So am I._

 

“I...they r-ruined me,” Yuri sobbed, “I...I don’t know if we can ever have s-sex...I...all I can think of with sex is...everything j-just hurts and...god, Beka, how are you still here after hearing t-this?”

 

All of Yuri’s secrets were out. Every pain, every hidden agony now out in the open for Otabek to see. Yet, instead of running for the hills, his boyfriend was _there,_ holding him. Comforting him.

 

“Do actually you think I could ever leave you?” Otabek murmured, kissing Yuri’s hair, “I fucking love you so much it hurts to _breathe_ without you, Yura. God I...I wish I could take all your pain. I wish I...I wish I could have h-helped you.”

 

_Jesus. Fuck, I am still so fucked over him. God, I love him so fucking much I…_

 

“Beka,” Yuri sobbed, chanting his name like a prayer, “Beka, _Beka_.”

 

His pride flickered a little at the weakness, like a candle being teased by the wind. Instead of being wounded by admitting weakness, it was as if Otabek light a match, igniting the fire.

 

Yuri was starting to _feel_ again. Not just random, crazed emotions, but actual feelings. Pain, sorrow, hurt, shame. Those were still in him, but now protection and love were swirling there as well, fighting back.

 

They held each other until morning broke and the moon was replaced by warm sunlight. Yuri was surprised to find that his feelings remained, even with the light of the day. The warmth of the sunbeam on his icy skin caused him to look, really look at his surroundings.

 

“Beka,” he said, voice hoarse from crying so much, “I want to get help. I want to talk to someone.”

  
He looked up, meeting his boyfriend's warm, loving gaze. “Beka...will you...come with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Graphic, vividly, emotionally detailed descriptions of rape. As in blow-by-blow. Detailed and graphic descriptions of prostitution (which is described as non-con), discussions of depression and thoughts of worthlessness. There are also references to Yuri’s mother’s past suicide attempt and drug use.
> 
> This is by far the hardest thing I have ever written. I truly hope I captured Yuri’s emotional struggle with realism and respect to what he went through.


	17. Whiskers and Paws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless fluff, people. Be ready.

The couch in Victor and Yuuri’s apartment seemed to have a permanent dent from Yuri’s ass. He didn’t mind it much, it was where he would crash after a particularly emotional therapy session. Several days after his outburst to Otabek, he landed a therapist who offered to meet with him at their apartment. Yuri declined, wanting home to not be tainted with traumatic memories of recounting the worst hours of his life. Instead, he had been going to her office a few times a week, sometimes with Otabek at his side.

 

Talking to a stranger was hard. Yuri often felt ashamed of what he had to say and the hurts he had to voice. His therapist was kind, offering him support and talking him through his pain. After a few sessions, he walked away with coping mechanisms to help him function in public, at least a little better than before. He was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety, and was learning how to cope. Through it all, he had unfailing support from those around him.

 

Yuri still had his moments, flinching when touched unexpectedly, jumping at loud noises. Some nights, he could barely sleep and would tremble in a ball, thoughts plaguing him. However, each day he felt himself getting a bit stronger, a bit better. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be completely over it, but therapy was helping him find solid ground.

 

He and Otabek hadn’t mentioned sex again. He knew that his boyfriend was probably waiting for him to take the lead on that subject, but Yuri was unsure if he would ever be ready for that kind of level of intimacy. Maybe someday, but not in the near future. He sometimes worried Otabek would get bored or frustrated and leave him, but he chalked that up to anxiety.

 

Stretching out on the couch, he pet Makkachin lazily. His doctor had mentioned animals could be helpful when anxious, and while he really loved the dog, but his heart ached for one of the precious cats he often saw pop up on his Instagram account. Not having the courage to ask for one, he pined away at the pictures of whiskers and paws, hoping that one day he could get a kitten of his own.

 

“Looking at cat videos again?” Victor asked from the other side couch, startling him.

 

“What? They’re cute,” Yuri scoffed, watching the video with a soft kind of smile.

 

_Cats are a lot fucking better than people, that’s for sure._

 

“Aw, Yurio, how precious,” Victor grinned, patting his head, “I can see why your fangirls keep giving you those silly headbands.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Yuri ignored the older skater, continuing to go through his Instagram for more videos, Makkachin snoring lightly on his lap. Victor plopped down next to him on the couch, ruffling his dog’s fur.

 

“Makka really likes you,” Victor observed.

 

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Nikiforov?”

 

“You wish!”

 

The banter felt light, playful even. They had been at each other’s throats for a long time, but Yuri had come to realize that with Victor, it came from a place of caring. Victor had kind of assumed a parental role in his life and while it was slightly awkward, he appreciated that someone else was willing to take the wheel for a while.

 

No words were spoken between them for a while, Victor humming lazily while Yuri continued to look through his phone. The sat like that for the better part of an hour, enjoying each other’s silent company.

 

_Man, things have changed a lot._

_I wonder when Beka and Yuuri are coming home? It’s later than normal._

 

“Hey, Victor?” he asked, “Where are Beka and Katsudon?”

 

Victor looked up from an article he was reading. “Hm? Oh, I think they said they had some errands to run. They’ll be here soon.”

 

Nodding, Yuri stretched, feeling warm from the weight of the poodle currently crushing his legs. Shifting slightly, he moved so that he could stand, stretching out his body. Training for the new season would begin any time, and he wanted to be ready.

 

After a few minutes of stretching, he heard the door open. Yuuri and Otabek were whispering excitedly and Yuri felt a surge of curiosity.

 

“Yuri, turn around!” Yuuri said, grinning, “We have a surprise for you!”

 

_Are you fucking kidding me? Fine._

 

Yuri rolled his eyes, but did it anyway. After a moment of hushed giggles and quiet, excited whispers, he heard his boyfriend’s voice.

 

“Okay, Yura, you can look now,” Otabek exclaimed happily. Yuri’s breath caught in his throat at the sight in front of him.

 

His boyfriend stood before him, holding a small black kitten. It was small, little more than a ball in Otabek’s arms. Yuri noticed it had a ragged ear and was missing an eye, but it was still the most precious thing he had ever seen in his life.

 

_Oh my fucking god, it’s so cute._

 

“She’s for you,” Otabek murmured softly, placing the kitten in his arms. Unable to speak, Yuri gently rubbed the kitten’s head with his finger, thrilled to feel the vibrations of her purr thrumming in his arms.

 

_She’s...mine?_

 

Yuri had wanted a cat for his whole life and it wasn’t a secret. But having one suddenly handed to him, out of nowhere...it was a childhood dream come true. His eyes grew soft as the kitten snuggled into his arms, purring more loudly.

 

He looked up, face reddening as he saw all three of them looking at him happily.

 

“I...uh...thanks,” he blushed, unable to voice his thoughts. Otabek seemed to understand how much it meant to him, squeezing his arm softly.

 

“We got her from a shelter,” Otabek exclaimed proudly, “She was the runt of her litter and they said she’d been there for a while. She came right up to us and meowed like crazy!”

 

_You went to the shelter without me? All those cats I missed out on petting? I am going to fucking kill you both._

 

“What are you going to name her?” Yuuri asked, breaking him from his murderous thoughts.

 

Yuri thought for a moment, looking down at the ragged ear, the missing eye, bedraggled fur, anger forgotten. This tiny ball of fluff that was trusting him, trusting him enough to fall asleep in his arms was all that mattered right now.

 

“ _Koibito,_ ” he said, see Yuuri’s face light up with surprise. It was a name he had occasionally heard Yuuri and Victor call each other, and he figured it was the equivalent of ‘sweetheart’ in Japanese.

 

“Perfect,” Victor approved, scratching the small kitten behind the ears, “You can call her Kobi for short.”

 

_Kobi. Yeah. I like that, it’s cute._

 

Yuri ignored the other three, sitting down on the couch, eyes only for the small creature sleeping in his hands. He wasn’t saying a word, but his eyes spoke volumes, full of a tenderness and love that he so rarely showed to anyone.

 

“I think I’ve been replaced,” Otabek whined after a few minutes had passed. Yuri grinned, unable to take his eyes off of his new pet.

 

“Don’t be jealous, Beka,” Yuri smirked, “I still love you the most.”

 

“Good,” his boyfriend said, coming over to scratch Kobi behind the ears. It was all so wonderfully perfect and domestic that Yuri had almost forgotten the horrors of the past few months.

 

_Wow. I...it felt normal for a second, there._

 

They all cooed over Kobi for a while, a jealous Makkachin eventually pushing her way in and licking the kitten’s face. The cat narrowed her eyes, swatting the dog on the nose, and Yuri’s heart swelled with pride.

 

_That’s my girl._

 

More than anything, Yuri was touched. So touched that his friends had done this for him, had given him something that he had wanted forever. He was already daydreaming about all the cute Instagram posts and videos he was going to make that featured her. He hadn’t been active on social media in a few weeks, which was clearly worrying his fans.

 

_Well, maybe now I have something I can tell them._

 

He held Kobi up between his and Otabek’s faces, pulling his phone out in front of him.

 

“Beka, we’re taking a picture,” he ordered. His boyfriend grinned, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek just as the camera _clicked._

 

Grinning, he captioned the picture “Our newest addition, Kobi. Thanks to @otabek-altin for the best present ever. <3 #bestboyfriendever”

 

Victor shared it on Instagram and Twitter and it received over ten thousand likes in an hour. Yuri was surprised for a moment before he realized it wasn’t just the cat, it was _Otabek._

 

In all the chaos of the past few months, he had completely forgotten that their relationship wasn’t public knowledge. Their phones began buzzing with notifications, from fans and friends alike.

 

Normally, Yuri would be annoyed, but the sheer normalcy of it grounded him and gave him something silly to focus on. The four of them laughed at some of the retweets and comments from fans, many excited for them, but some bemoaning the fact that Yuri was taken. Otabek laughed out loud at some of the more ridiculous ones, and Yuri’s heart soared.

  
He had a long road, a _very_ long road ahead, but for the first time in years, Yuri felt that the dark tunnel he was in had a light at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God help me, but this is now the first part of a series. Although this story is drawing to a close, I know there’s more I need to say. So, a sequel is coming your way! It will be called “Rise Up” and the first chapter will be posted shortly after this fic is finished.
> 
> This is NOT going to be one of those "everything is happy and perfect now" sequels, but it will be lighter than this fic. The focus is on realistic recovery, so there will be dark moments but the plot is on how Yuri will push through them. Also, there will be a lot more skating scenes and other characters, as it is set during the next season and the season of the 2018 Winter Olympics.


	18. Back to the Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the end! Although, I am so excited to write the sequel. There is an extremely good possibility it will be up tonight or tomorrow. Thank you so much for all of your support on this fic. I live for comments, everyone was so kind and inspiring as I wrote this. I hope the continuation lives up to your expectations and that you enjoy this final chapter.

The day he went back to train was the best day of his _life._

 

He laced his skates, thrumming with anticipation. His therapist had been pleased for him, happy that he had an outlet for his newfound energy and emotions. Pulling off the skate guards, he practically flung himself onto the ice, the chill in the air cooling his skin and helping release tension in his shoulders.

 

_This is what I’ve been missing._

 

Skating smooth, gentle laps around the rink, Yuri could feel himself become more relaxed and at peace. He didn’t smile, but he could feel excitement bubbling inside of him, ready to burst out at any moment. He couldn’t put a name to the emotion he was feeling at first, but he let himself go, throwing himself into his usual warm up.

 

_Oh. Alive. That's what it is. I feel...alive._

 

After a time the others joined him on the ice, Yakov arriving too and calling out to them all for a quick meeting. Yuri ignored them, happy to be moving with the ice again.

 

 _“Yurachka!”_ Yakov barked after a time, and from his tone it sounded like he had been trying to get his attention for a while, “Come _here.”_

 

Yuri skated over, ignoring the shit-eating grin that Yuuri was flashing him.

 

_Katsudon, you are not innocent, I don’t care what Victor says._

 

“Good. Now, the 2018 season is coming up and you all have to focus on placing at your respective countries championships if you want to have a spot in the Olympics,” Yakov said gruffly.

 

“I’ve already placed for Kazakhstan,” Otabek admitted quietly and Yuri felt a surge of pride.

 

_Damn right you did. A bronze at the Grand Prix cinched you that spot._

 

“The Japanese finals are soon,” Yuuri confessed, “But I think I’ve got a solid handle on my routine, right, Victor?”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You already won gold at the Grand Prix, you ass. Of course you’re going to PyeongChang.”

 

Victor smirked. “Yuri’s right, my love. You’re a shoe-in. However, I am going to be in Korea solely as a coach, I have no desire to compete in another Olympics.”

 

_Arrogant asshole. He’s only been in like...three of them._

 

“Victor, you took silver,” Yuuri argued, “You have every right to skate for Russia.”

 

Victor waved a hand dismissively, looking over to Yuri. “No, it’s time for me to step aside so the young up-and-coming ice tiger of Russia can dig his claws into the competition.”

 

_Ugh, you’re so cheesy, old man._

 

“Hey, that competition is me and Otabek you’re talking about, you know,” Yuuri teased, flashing Victor a smile.

 

“Yuri,” Yakov said, getting his attention, “He’s right. It’s _you_ that has the most catching up to do. If you work hard, you can take gold for Russia. I know it. We all know it.”

 

_But I’m a walking disaster. I can barely keep myself together most days. Skate for Russia at the Olympics? Are they serious?_

 

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Me?”

 

Yakov frowned, and Yuri figured it was because during his senior debut, the Olympics were all that he could talk about. Now, it seemed an unattainable dream. He was an anxious mess, still fighting to get out of bed on a daily basis. Wrestling with nightmares. He wasn’t sure the Russian government, or the Russian people in general, wanted a cat-obsessed, PTSD-ridden skater who had taken a whole year off of competition to represent their country at the games.

 

“Yuri, you can do this,” Otabek stated firmly, skating over so he could look him in the eye. “We all believe in you.”

 

 _Ugh, jesus fucking christ. They_ **_are_ ** _serious. Okay._

 

“But…” he started, not wanting to watch their faces fall, “I…”

 

He swallowed, thoughts drifting to the horrors of the past year. How could he skate competitively if all he could think about were those _disgusting_ men…

 

“Yura?” Otabek inquired softly, “Hey, you okay?”

 

Yuri nodded, pushing back his hair. “I...I’ll try my best to qualify.”

 

It wasn’t the answer they wanted, he knew they were expecting his usual _“I’ll fucking wipe the floor with you assholes”_ speech that he would have given in years past. But damn, he was just so _tired._ He wasn’t sure he could qualify, being out of stringent training for so long.

 

“Good,” Yakov said, “Then I want you to begin with your usual warm up. Do you remember the sequences?”

 

Yuri nodded, eyes going steely and focused, moving to the center of the ice. He extended his arms and began to skate through his extensive warm-up routine, the familiar steps bringing him closer to the understanding that he might actually be in the fucking _Olympics_ this year.

 

_I don’t know why they still have so much belief in me, but I’ll try my best._

 

He skated through each of his warm ups, trying not to think too hard. His stomach twisted in knots despite his efforts to stay focused as he thought of the next year.

 

_Beka’s going to have to go back to Kazakhstan. And Yuuri and Victor will be in Hasetsu and me...I’ll be here._

 

_Alone._

 

_I mean, I can stay with Yakov and grandpa, but...damn. I’m really going to miss them._

 

“Yuri! Focus!” Yakov barked at him and Yuri got back into gear, working on cleaning up his movements. He practiced for another solid hour, Yakov going over new sequences with him as they talked about adding in some jumps.

 

During a break, he skated over to his boyfriend who was sitting on a bench drinking water.

 

“Beka…” he began nervously, “When...do you have to go back to Kazakhstan?”

 

Otabek looked up at him sadly. “I’m not sure. I tried to get my coach to come here, but they really want to keep the team together so we can bond before Korea. But we can Skype and I’ll visit as much as I can, I promise.”

 

Yuri’s stomach clenched nervously, but he knew rationally that Otabek had to leave. He couldn’t just drop everything to be with him, he had given up months of his training already.

 

“Yura,” he murmured softly, “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t think you were safe here.”

 

_He’s said that before._

 

“I mean it,” Otabek continued, taking a gentle hold of his hand, “I know you’re going to be okay. And if you need me, any time, I will be on a plane so fast it will make your head spin.”

 

Yuri laughed in spite of himself, appreciating the words.

 

“When do you think Victor and Yuuri are going to Japan?” Yuri asked, and Otabek’s mouth opened to reply. Before he could answer, there was the sound of skates pulling up behind him and someone scoffing loudly.

 

“Are you serious?” Victor asked, “There’s no way we’re leaving you. You’re stuck living with us, Yurio. You and that demonic _kotenok_.”

 

The knot in Yuri’s stomach loosened a little. He had really begun to feel at home in the apartment and knowing that his living arrangement wouldn’t be changing helped him feel grounded.

 

“But isn’t Katsudon skating for Japan?” Yuri asked quietly.

 

  
Victor nodded. “Of course. But I’m not skating, which means we can train wherever he wants. And Katsuki Yuuri wants to train in Russia, with you.”

 

Yuri nodded, unable to voice his thoughts. He was unbelievably touched, even though he was loathe to admit it.

 

“We all love you,” Otabek smiled, “Me especially.”

 

Yuri grinned in spite of himself, feeling happy and safe in the presence of his friends.

 

_They really are like family._

 

“I love you too,” he said softly to no one in particular, hoping that they’d pick up on the message. He felt a warmth inside of him, a strength filling him.

 

“Boys! This is no time to relax!” Yakov barked, breaking the spell. They all stood, moving to continue their practice.

 

Yuri skated to the center, warming himself up for jumps. He had done some doubles during warm up, but he was curious to see how much of his difficult jump set he could still accomplish in his current state.

 

Setting himself up for a quad sal, he launched his body into the air, feeling a satisfaction at the takeoff. He knew he wasn’t going to stick his landing though and he fell onto the ice, sprawled like a starfish.

 

Pulling himself up, he heard the sound of skates speeding up next to him, spraying ice in every direction as they stopped in a hurry.

 

“Yura, you alright?” Otabek asked, panting.

 

He straightened up, dusting the ice off his shirt. “Yeah.”

 

The thrill of the jump filled him, pushing out the pain from his fall. He looked up at his boyfriend, eyes gleaming with a passionate fire that had just been rekindled.

 

“Yeah, I think I will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sequel to this fic is now up! Please check out [Rise Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9972446/chapters/22284980).
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://www.kanekkis.tumblr.com)


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